


the re-education of tyler brown

by cathedralhearts



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Canon Divergence, M/M, excessive bro behaviour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-05
Updated: 2013-05-05
Packaged: 2017-12-10 10:51:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 44,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/785232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cathedralhearts/pseuds/cathedralhearts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tyler Brown retires from ice hockey at the age of 23.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the re-education of tyler brown

**Author's Note:**

> One day, I will be able to write fic about people/players/things that aren’t the Tylers. Today is not that day. No ugg boots were injured in the making of this story. 
> 
> I messed with a lot of events, rosters and locations but nobody said “TOO MUCH SUSPENSION OF BELIEF, CHANGE IT!” I also wrote this before the season ended, so a lot regarding the end of the season/playoffs/drafts is going to be different. I don't know the names of various outside family members, so most of them are made up.

It’s May of 2013 and Tyler’s injured. 

It’s a stupid fucking injury, a hamstring he pinged at yoga the afternoon before, but it’s not like he’s got anything to recover for. Hockey’s done for the year, Adirondack not even making it to playoffs, and then the Flyers sat him down and gave the “thanks but no thanks” talk he’s getting way too used to hearing. 

He’s used to — he’s used to having to fight to get where he needs to be when it comes to hockey, but he’s tired. He’s tired from fighting all his fucking life for this game; for the game that’s given him purpose, a family and lifelong friends, but still hasn’t given him what he _needs_. It hasn’t given him the NHL, hasn’t given him his name permanently on a locker without the fear of being thrown back to the minors, or worse. 

He’s pissed and feeling beyond shitty, facing down a turbulent summer as an unsigned free agent and Segs isn’t answering his texts; nor are the rest of the boys. 

Not for the first time, Tyler curses the fact he’s single and doesn’t have a girlfriend to bitch at anymore, after Julie dumped his ass before taking a year-long study abroad program a few weeks ago.

Out of all their friends, he’s only told Segs about his newly single status, and received a sad face emoji and the promise of a Skype session (that he’s still waiting for, whatever) for Tyler’s efforts. Everyone’s starting playoffs runs now, even his own fucking brother, so he doesn’t expect anything until after they get scratched or like, fucking _win_ and he’s just — he’s just in Wasaga, doing fuck all. 

Segs is probably busy with the steady stream of girls making their way through his and Freddy’s apartment, or so Freddy constantly texts him and complains about. Tyler’s been making good progress at like, not wanting to tear anyone’s faces off whenever he gets a text from Fred, hot spikes of jealousy ripping through him and making him crazy. 

 

He’s had it bad for Segs since Plymouth, since the fucking second he looked at his stupid jailbait smile and unfairly ripped bod and whatever else Tyler wanted. And it isn’t just physical either, which makes it worse. 

He legitimately likes _everything_ about Segs; his weird laugh and his shitty dad jokes, his crappy taste in clothes and movies and his public infatuation for watching romantic comedies. They’d spent a ridiculous amount of time during road trips and on afternoons off watching whatever movies they got to first — Segs was, and still is, a huge bitch for anything Nicholas Sparks. 

(Neither of them will acknowledge it, but they did huddle together and cry most of the way through _The Notebook_ once, when a man flu epidemic ripped through their squad. Tyler still counts it as one of the best nights of his life.)

 

There’s only so much excitement he can like, generate for himself when lying down and there’s absolutely nothing good on cable and his family have gone to bed hours ago, and it’s just him lying in a dark room, being moody with the dog at the end of the bed, snoring. 

He’d bought the Labrador with Julie, but she was overseas and her family didn’t want dogs, and she told him to keep the puppy — he’d paid for it, and now the only remnants of his season are a hockey bag stashed in the corner of his room, overflowing with gear, a dog, a healthy bank account and an overextended hamstring. Fucking wonderful.

“Can I be fucked going through trying to get signed again?” he asks his dog, who snorts into wakefulness and looks at him with glazed-over eyes. Julie named him Harper, after the author of _To Kill A Mockingbird_ , but they’d only had the thing a few weeks before they were done, so. It’s probably early enough that he can change it and still train him okay.

Tyler already knows the answer to his question, and sighs loudly. He _really_ can’t be fucked. He hates the waiting, having to meet with clubs and doing medicals and the nothingness coming from it. But — without hockey, he’s _nothing_. Hockey’s been his life since he was five, skating in a shitty rink in Edmonton, and it’s all he knows, and has basically nothing to show for it. 

The puppy slides up the bed, resting his head against Tyler’s stomach and licking at his fingers.

“I don’t think I’m gonna play hockey again, bud.” he whispers at the dog, who whines softly and noses at his ribs. He decides on calling the dog Bud, since he’s basically been doing that anyway, and _Air Bud_ was a fucking classic.

 

*

 

“I’m quitting hockey,” he says at breakfast the next morning, while his dad chokes on his toast and his younger sister, home for the holidays from university, swears.

“The fuck?!” Michelle exclaims, ducking a whack from their mother with her newspaper.

“What? _Why_?” she asks, and Tyler shrugs.

“I’m sick and tired of constantly — I’m just not good enough. If I was, the Flyers would have kept me, or I’d have offers already. I don’t want to go through all the shit I went through to get the Flyers gig. It’s not— I just _can’t_. And I mean, Cody’s doing really well at Barrie... at least one of us can like, succeed.”

“What are you gonna do instead? You hate school,” Michelle says, pouring milk over her cereal.

“I dunno. I might kick it for a few months, actually enjoy my summer... and decide after that. I don’t hate school, I just haven’t found anything interesting to do.” Tyler mutters, pressing his hands flat against the table. His phone is in his pocket and he’s trying to train himself not to constantly look at it to see if Segs has tried to contact him. 

Segs isn’t a mind reader; he can’t feel a disturbance in the force or something, now that Tyler’s made the decision to quit. 

 

*

 

Boston makes it to the semi finals before they’re scratched, and the Marlies get to the quarters before they’re dumped, but Barrie storm to the finals and finish with the J. Ross Robertson Cup, the game winning goal coming from none other than Cody himself. The whole extended family travels to London, where the final is held, and they spend the next two days partying it up with the team and their families. 

By the time they get back to Wasaga, Tyler’s pretty sure he’s got alcohol poisoning and it almost took the jaws of life to pry Cody off his MVP trophy. Tyler had made his family promise not to tell Cody about quitting hockey, since he knows his brother will start feeling ridiculously guilty that he just — that he just fucking won something, which is stupid and wrong. 

Tyler has spent his summer, so far, actually enjoying the hell outta himself. There’s no training, no diets, and he can actually spend time with his old buddies that he used to run with, before he dedicated his life to the sport. “Retired at 23, what the fuck?” is the general consensus whenever he rocks up to house parties and it gets out that he’s given up on hockey, but Tyler just shrugs and smiles, shotgunning another beer or doing another body shot. 

Besides, house parties mean hangovers and waking up on strange floors for the first time in what feels like forever, pressed against the carpet pile in a puddle of drool, hauling his aching body upright so he can go puke into the nearest bowl-like area.

 

It’s not until a few days after he sends Segs a “ _:( sry bro maybe next yr? Brownie xoxo_ ” text and returns from Cody’s finals, that he does the walk of shame from Caleb’s a few blocks over to find Segs sitting at his kitchen table, a huge plate of breakfast in front of him and his mom hovering.

“...thinks he’s quitting, and he’s staying out all the time and I just—” his mom is saying, cutting off as Tyler leans against the doorframe moaning, his head and body crying for pain relief.

“Unnngh, Mom. Where’s the Advil?” he groans, pushing his sunglasses further up his face and pulling his hoodie tighter around him. She rolls her eyes and hands him the bottle, and he swallows two dry and looks at the toast that Segs wraps his arms around protectively.

“Hi, asshole. I hear you’re an alkie now?” he says by way of greeting, and Tyler rolls his eyes.

“I’m enjoying my summer,” he shoots back, and his mom disappears as Tyler drops down into the seat next to Segs, watching him eat and feeling ill.

“So, no more hockey, eh?” Segs asks a few beats later, egg yolk dripping down the side of his mouth. Tyler really wants to reach forward and wipe it off, and he’s hungover enough that logic and fear don’t really connect, so he does — rubs his thumb against Segs’ thin bottom lip and collects the yolk, popping it in his mouth and sucking for a second. 

Segs doesn’t look too perturbed but Tyler’s definitely questioning his sanity; it’s done and he just shrugs and moves on.

“Nope. Why bother? I’m not good enough for the NHL, whatever.”

“What, because the fucking _Flyers_ let you go? Yeah, okay. Like they don’t have some of the shittiest runs with players recently,” Segs snorts and Tyler rolls his eyes. 

“I just — you don’t get it, man. You’re the fucking number two draft pick, NHL golden boy, won the Stanley already. You don’t know what it’s like being me.”

“Of course I fucking know what it’s like being you, asshole. I’m here, aren’t I? I saw you go through hell before you got the Flyers contract, I know how much it sucks.”

Tyler just shakes his head and leans back, kicking his legs up on the other chair and yawning, scratching at the back of his head. 

“Why are you here, anyway? Why aren’t you in Toronto?”

Segs goes pink at this, and looks down at his food.

“I dunno, I just... felt like coming to see you for a bit. I can go,” he says, sounding like he doesn’t want to, and Tyler rolls his eyes.

“No, you can stay. I just — you don’t answer my texts, haven’t Skyped me for ages and then you just randomly _show up at my house_?”

“I was a little busy trying to win the Stanley,” Segs shoots back.

“You’ve talked to me before during playoff runs, don’t act like this time was different. Did you know I got scratched for the last four games of the season?” he asks, and Segs winces and tries to hide it, but Tyler laughs. Of course.

“Which of them has been like, updating you on my life since you’re so shit about keeping up?” he asks, and Segs shakes his head and eats.

“I kept tabs on you, okay. I knew what was going on. I just — I didn’t know how to tell you that I was sorry, or whatever.”

“Pretty fuckin’ easy, man. You just did it,” Tyler says, taking the tiniest sip of Gatorade and praying his stomach doesn’t try and punch its way out his midsection. 

“That’s what the others said. It was uh, brought to my attention that I had sucked at being your best friend lately so, yeah. Sorry about Julie... and hockey,” he says. 

“Yeah, well. It is what it is.” Tyler shrugs.

“It doesn’t have to be—” Segs starts and Tyler gets up, done with the conversation.

“I’m goin’ to bed. You coming? You look exhausted,” he says. Segs has cleared his plate and he can hear Marshall out the back with his dad and Bud, and he nods and puts his dishes away and follows Tyler upstairs.

“No trundle?” Segs jokes as Tyler shuts the door behind them and picks his way across his suitcases and bags worth of shit he’d driven back up from Glens Falls. It’s amazing how much crap he’s accumulated after three seasons with — not with the Flyers, but Adirondack. 

“Don’t know where it is. My bed’s big enough for both of us,” he says and pulls off his jeans and shirt. Segs shrugs and follows suit, and they crawl into bed. 

“Mmm, fresh sheets...” Tyler sighs; his mom must’ve known Segs was coming, since they were definitely dirty when he left yesterday afternoon. Segs tosses and turns for a bit, and Tyler knows what he wants. 

Back in Plymouth, sometimes the homesickness would get to them and they’d — well, cuddle or whatever. Segs refused to let it get weird, so they’d joke about who’d be big spoon. Tyler won most of the time since he was taller, but Segs was heavier and sometimes he wanted that solidity anchoring him when he felt like he was going to fly apart. 

“For God’s sake,” Tyler sighs wearily, turning around to see Segs pouting. Tyler pulls him close, Segs’ arms sneaking around him as he burrows happily against Tyler’s bare chest.

“I wanted to—” Segs starts, but Tyler shakes his head and presses his chin against the top of his head.

“Shut up and sleep.”

 

When Tyler wakes up a few hours later, they’ve shifted in their sleep and Segs is behind him, an arm thrown over his waist and their legs tangled together, morning (afternoon?) wood pressing against the crease of his ass.

Tyler bites down hard and contemplates rolling his hips back, just to feel what it could be like to have Segs like _that_ , like he’s wanted for years, but Segs beats him to it and rocks gently, his dick slipping against his briefs and sliding between his legs. Tyler can hear him gasp softly and waits, willing himself not to react and see if he’ll do it again. 

He can’t help the smile when he does, again and again, before going to pull away. Tyler grabs his wrist and turns around, and Segs looks like a fucking deer caught in the headlights.

“Brownie, I—” he starts but Tyler cuts him off by leaning in, pressing their lips together and trying not to moan obnoxiously loud at the feeling of Segs just fucking _melting_ against him, his biceps pressing against his sides as his fingers dig into Tyler’s back, holding him close. Tyler rolls on top, pushing a leg between Segs’, and he grinds down with purpose. 

“Fuck, Brownie,” Segs moans and Tyler leaves his mouth to suck a bruise against the cut of his jaw, biting and swiping his tongue over the skin. They’re just humping now, the slip of their cocks against the cotton and the friction feels amazing, but Tyler wants — he wants _more_. More skin, more sex, more kissing, more everything, so he pulls back and grabs for Segs’ underwear, hooking his fingers in the elastic and pulling down. 

His cock springs free and damn, it’s — Tyler wants his mouth on it. He has no fucking idea what he’s doing, but he’s fantasised for years and fuck that if he’s not capitalising.

“What?” Segs chokes out, and Tyler pulls his own boxers down and off, before kissing a path along Segs’ chest and stopping at his dick, breathing on it before looking up at Segs.

“Can I?” he asks, and Segs laughs.

“As if I’m gonna say no! I’ve waited too long for this shit!”

Brownie bites his lip and licks a stripe along the underside, palming the cut of Segs’ hips as he files that confession away for later, pressing him back against the bed so he can’t like, choke on his dick or something. It tastes weird, like... like, sweat and Segs’ body wash with the tears of goats or something stupid. The taste of his skin though, it’s addictive. Tyler could definitely get used to this.

He’s kind of shit, obviously, but he makes sure to just... whatever, use heaps of spit and less teeth and more hands. He’s watched enough porn over the years, he can do this, and with the way Segs is gasping and writhing against the bed, trying to thrust his dick further in Tyler’s mouth, it can’t all be bad.

Tyler frowns for a bit and decides he’s going to swallow — because he _wants_ to — and Segs lets out a long, painful sounding groan and Tyler takes as much of him as he can, his lips an inch or so from the base of his dick, and feels Segs’ orgasm hit the roof of his mouth, coating his molars and dripping onto his tongue. He’s so hard he’s aching, rubbing off against his mattress, and he swallows with a wince (memo to self: jizz tastes _gross_ ) and pulls off, licking at Segs before going up on his knees and fisting his dick. 

Segs makes a pissed off-sounding noise and reaches for him, and Tyler leans over and gasps as Segs grabs at him, pull him on top of him and laughing.

“Rub off on me,” he says and Tyler chokes out an agreement before he finds a rhythm against Segs’ hip, Segs’ fingers digging into his ass. He comes embarrassingly quickly, Segs kissing him and pulling back, looking satisfied.

“Well, I didn’t expect that when I woke up,” Segs says as Tyler grabs his shirt and cleans them up. He flops back down next to Segs, who grins at him, bright and open.

“Mmm,” is all Tyler can say back, feeling like he’s been punched by the look. He’s — he’s so happy. 

 

They jerk each other off in the shower, soapy and Tyler’s pressed against the tiles while Segs rubs off on him, hard muscle and no friction whatsoever and it’s like — _fuck_. 

It’s like every shitty moment in his life was in preparation to make sure he could properly appreciate this. 

 

It’s kind of awkward, the nervous new edge to their relationship that has them bumping and fumbling against each other when they try and eat lunch with the rest of Tyler’s family; Tyler ends up with Segs’ water down his front, and Segs almost gets the ketchup bottle thrown at his face when Tyler attempts to pass it to him. They haven’t talked about what happened and Tyler doesn’t even really know how to start, and it’s making him — it’s making him feel off-kilter, but Segs keeps shooting ridiculous grins at him and brushing their ankles together under the table. 

“God, what’s gotten into you two this afternoon?” his mom exclaims, and Tyler resists the urge to snort. Segs, on the other hand, isn’t as composed and ends up sniggering into his food, while Tyler elbows him. They escape and decide to go for a walk through the city, stopping for a snack in Denny’s before heading back to the house.

Tyler’s brother and sister have disappeared, and his mom leaves a note pinned to the fridge that she’s seeing her sister, while their father watches a replay of the football, and Segs nudges Tyler upstairs and into his room, pushing him back against the door as it closes and kissing him thoroughly.

“Fuck, can’t get enough of you,” Segs murmurs against his neck, sucking hard before swiping his tongue over the skin, Tyler moaning and rolling their hips together. 

“Wait, wait... we need to, fuck. We need to _talk_ ,” Tyler says, pushing at Segs’ midsection, trying to get space between them so he can think.

“What’s there to talk about?” Segs asks, pulling his shirt off, and Tyler’s mouth goes dry. 

“Fuck,” he chokes out and Segs grins, filthy. Let it never be said he doesn’t know how to work his best angles.

 

After, Tyler’s lying on his back trying desperately to catch his breath, come striped up his chest and between his thighs. He’s not letting Segs put anything in his ass any time soon, and he doesn’t think Segs is at that point either, and he’s pissed Segs distracted him from his plan.

“Segs, seriously,” he huffs out a few moments later, Segs yawning next to him, his eyes fluttering closed.

“What?” Segs says, and Tyler pokes his side.

“We need to talk about this shit. About how it’s a super fucking bad idea, or whatever?” he tries, and Segs laughs.

“Probably, but like either of us care. And if you’re giving up hockey, it means you can just like... come live with me.”

“That’s a bit of a leap from whatever this is to like, _living together_.”

“Not really? You lived with me last summer.” Segs turns onto his front, pressing close to Tyler’s side. He starts drumming his fingers along Tyler’s side, smiling softly.

“If you’re going back to school, you can go to school in Boston. You won’t need to pay for anything, I won’t let you. So it’s fine.”

“You’re not being my fucking sugar daddy, _Tyler_ ,” Tyler says, and Segs laughs.

“Shut the fuck up, Brownie, and just say yes.”

Tyler rolls his eyes and looks out at his window, at the weak sunlight trying to break through the clouds and give Wasaga at least some imitation of the summer they’re supposed to be in.

“I’m gonna be trying to figure out my life without hockey, man. I don’t think living with a hockey player is gonna be the best idea,” he finally says, and Segs yawns loudly.

“Whatever. I’m not Tyler the hockey player to you, though. I’m Tyler the dude who gives awesome bjs and knows how to cook your eggs just right.”

“Your mouth has been on my dick a grand total of like, once. I don’t think you can boast about giving awesome bjs just off that alone.”

“Who says you’re my first?” Segs says with a wink, before dragging himself out of bed and into Tyler’s ensuite. Tyler feels jealousy rear up inside and pouts, reaching down to grab a dirty shirt and wiping himself off before rolling over to face the wall. He knew Segs was an easy guy, so to speak, and he’d had a lot of experience — but actually hearing it, rather than just seeing shady shit going on out the corner of his eye at clubs, is different. 

Tyler is definitely a monogamous person, mostly because he sucks at dealing with more than one person at a time, and if this shit — whatever the fuck this is — is going to continue, especially with Segs as a hockey player and Tyler as _not_ a hockey player, things have definitely got to change.

 

*

 

James, a guy he used to hang with in high school, throws a house party and invites Tyler on Facebook. Tyler flirts with the idea of not going. Segs is here, and bringing Segs will just invite unwanted attention — especially if they get drunk and Segs does something stupid like trying to blow him in front of the whole place. 

He doesn’t trust his old friends enough not to take pictures and sell to Deadspin, and he’s about to hit “Decline” when Segs appears behind him.

“What’s this?” he asks, and Tyler coughs and tries to minimise the window, before Segs wrestles the mouse off him.

“House party, wicked! We going?” he asks, and Tyler glares.

“No. He was a douche,” Tyler says, and it’s not exactly a lie but he feels guilty anyway. 

“C’mon, let’s just go for an hour. He obviously wasn’t a huge enough douche that you friended him back on here, otherwise you wouldn’t have bothered or whatever,” Segs says and Tyler glares. Fuck him and his logic.

 

~

 

The party is kind of awesome — James’ parents are loaded so his house is fucking huge, and he’s got kegs and a stage set up in the living room, huge plasmas for games and some small-time DJ Tyler doesn’t know the name of, but everyone seems pretty fucking excited over being there. The kitchen is stocked with coolers, filled with every kind of alcohol anyone can think of, and Segs almost loses his shit when he sees everyone.

They bring Cody and Michelle along, so Segs has someone to hang with before he starts turning on the charm and finding a whole new bunch of friends, and Tyler gets dragged off by James and his ‘homies’ to do the first keg stand of the evening.

“It’s only just turned ten!” Tyler exclaims, scrabbling for Segs, who shrugs him off while laughing, his phone clutched in his hand waiting for priceless video.

 

Tyler manages to lose his siblings and Segs, and by the time he untangles himself from some girls he used to sit with in English, it’s after one in the morning and he’s wasted. His drunken state is mostly linked to needing it, after the fifth person asked how Julie was and why she wasn’t here. It’s been a little while since they ended things, but that shit... he’s still raw. Segs and him, whatever it is they’ve got going on — it’s new, but old and worn at the same time. He doesn’t want his time with Julie to be just some sort of placeholder. 

He staggers into the house and spots his sister first, pouring herself some sangria and saying goodbye to a guy he vaguely remembers. 

“Big bro!” she exclaims, giggling, and Tyler smiles and slings an arm around her.

“Where’s Segs?” he slurs and she points behind him. He turns to see Segs leaning against the doorway, a Bud Lite in his hand. 

“Look at you, fuckin’ _lightweight_. Wasted, and it’s barely one,” he sighs and walks forward. Tyler really, really wants to kiss him, thoughts of his ex fleeing from his mind, but he knows it’s a really bad idea, so he just licks his lips and stares at Segs, hoping he’ll get with the program. 

Segs raises an eyebrow as he comes to stand next to Tyler, and leans in close.

“You wanna get outta here?” he asks and Tyler nods, trying to suppress a moan at the thought of what Segs is going to do to him.

“Yeah. They okay here without us?” he asks, his lips brushing against Tyler’s ear, and Tyler just whimpers and grinds down against Segs’ leg. 

“We’re fine, you two go...” Michelle says from somewhere behind Tyler, and Tyler nods and drags Segs as best he can out of the house. 

 

They walk back to Tyler’s, stopping frequently so Segs can remove himself from Tyler’s grip, laughing and stumbling over the side of the road, and Tyler’s seconds away from whipping his dick out and jerking off in public by the time they finally get home.

“C’mon, be quiet — your parents are asleep,” Segs whispers loudly as they get upstairs, banging into several walls and frames on the way. Tyler just launches on his bed and kicks off his shoes while Segs locks the door. By the time he turns around, Tyler’s shaking his boxers off his leg and rubbing his hand along his dick, hard and leaking pre-come. 

“ _C’mon_ ,” Tyler whines and Segs’ jaw drops slightly, before he gets with the program and strips off. He crawls on top of Tyler, kissing him deeply and angling their hips together, and Tyler moans loudly before Segs slaps a hand over his mouth.

“I’m _serious!_ Your parents are here, you idiot! Shut up,” Segs says, replacing his hand with his mouth.

“Don’t care,” Tyler mumbles and Segs grabs at Tyler’s Adirondack bag and pulls at something until it comes free, and opens his drawer and finds some socks.

“What—” Tyler starts, before Segs is shoving them in his mouth, using the tie to keep them there. 

“Okay?” Segs says, and Tyler makes a face. His socks tastes like clean, and like booze, and it’s a gross mix but he’s not — he’s never been _gagged_ before, and he’s just horny enough and drunk enough not to care. So, he shrugs and nods, and Segs shimmies down the bed and takes his dick in his mouth, and Tyler’s head smacks back against his bed as he lets out a long, hard groan. 

The makeshift gag works, and there’s barely any noise, and Segs keeps going for a while until he thinks Tyler’s on the edge, before pulling off and reaching for the lube. He’s been craving this all evening, any reservations about dick-in-ass action completely gone from his mind, wanting nothing more than Segs to be inside him. 

Segs gets three fingers deep before he asks Tyler if he has any condoms, and Tyler shakes his head. He’d used the last condom he’d held onto for a goodbye fuck with Julie, and he wasn’t expecting to get any action over the summer so he hadn’t bothered replacing it. 

Segs looks shitty for a beat, before it morphs into a frown.

“I haven’t — I mean, I’ve always used condoms. Like, never fucked a girl or guy without one. So uh, I’m clean.”

Tyler’s too drunk to understand his theorising, and Segs looks pretty fucking wasted too, and he leans in and licks a path up Tyler’s neck.

“I’m asking if I can fuck you without a condom, you non. Have you had anyone, y’know... put it up there without one?” he asks, and Tyler glares. 

He’s an assvirgin and Segs needs to know this, but he just shakes his head and presses back against Segs’ wonderful fingers, until they’re replaced and Segs is pushing the head of his dick against Tyler’s ass. He hoists Tyler’s leg higher, until Tyler wraps it around Segs’ hips and then he’s, he’s bottoming out and Tyler feels full in an uncomfortable way, until Segs’ hand wraps around his dick and he starts to thrust, and then it’s like — it’s like _magic_.

 

Segs comes hard in Tyler’s ass after what feels like forever, and Tyler follows him over a second or two later. He’d be embarrassed if he wasn’t half asleep, and needing to breathe. Segs gets his hands working enough to undo the tie, and Tyler spits the socks out. 

His mouth is dry and he’s thirsty as fuck, so he grabs his water bottle and takes a few, offering it to Segs before flopping back.

“I have jizz in my ass,” is the last thing Tyler says before he passes out. 

 

The next morning, he wakes up with an epic hangover. His entire lower half is aching, and his ass is itchy. 

“Fucking Seguin, didn’t even clean me up,” Tyler rasps, mostly to himself. Segs is passed out hard next to him, snoring in the pillow. He looks beautiful, and it makes Tyler pissy that he’s thinking those kinds of thoughts, so he staggers to his bathroom and spends twenty minutes psyching himself up to soap his fingers and stick them in his ass. 

It’s gross, but his dick is interested. At one point his fingers accidentally hit his prostate and his knees buckle. His fingers scrabble at the tiles as he remembers Segs pounding into him last night, and how that feeling just — it took over his whole fucking body. It doesn’t take long for him to stripe the walls with come, choking off under the spray, and he barely manages to towel himself off and stagger back to his bed before he passes out again, his body shaking.

 

When he wakes up again, Segs is — Segs is _staring_ at him, and flushes when Tyler’s eyes flutter open and Segs’ eyes are the first things he sees.

“I feel like shit,” Tyler says, and Segs nods and coughs.

“Yeah, last night was crazy...” Segs trails off, his fingers drumming along his stomach. He seems nervous, and if there’s one thing Tyler Seguin isn’t, it’s nervous about sex — or mornings after.

“What’s goin’ on? Why’re you being weird?” Tyler asks, rubbing his face. Segs glares.

“I’m not being weird, fuck you.”

“You are. You’re nervous, I can tell. Why are you nervous? Are you... do you regret—” Tyler can’t even begin to bring himself to finish that sentence, it hurting way too much, and Segs looks at him with alarm in his eyes.

“What?! No, of _course_ not! I don’t — it was, I mean. Do _you_ regret it?” he fires back, looking shocked, and Tyler rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

“No, I don’t. It was awesome.”

Segs breaks into a grin at that, and they both relax. 

“Why are you here?” Tyler asks, after a beat or two, and Segs tenses again.

“Your mom—” he starts, and Tyler snorts.

“Fuck that. I know my mom regularly like, texts you and shit. You’ve never felt the need to drop everything and come here, to Wasaga. I always go to you.”

It’s most definitely too early for this conversation, and they’re definitely too hungover, but it looks like it’s happening, regardless. Segs sighs, and rubs his face.

“Look, man. I was a really shitty friend when you were with your girl, or whatever. You were always cool when I had my girls, or any of us did, and none of us really stuck around for you, and I’m sorry. I didn’t — I mean, your mom was the one who... I didn’t do good by you, and I want to make it right this summer.” Segs finally gets out, and Tyler feels oddly touched.

“I was kinda pissed you didn’t give me more, when I texted you about Julie,” Tyler says, and Segs nods miserably.

“Yeah, I know. And when your mom called me and said you were talking about quitting hockey, I just — I dunno, it was obvious that I needed to come. I needed to be here, with you. Helping or whatever.”

“And all this?” Tyler asks, waving a hand to the bed. Segs flushes.

“I could ask you the same,” he mutters, and Tyler punches his arm.

“OW! Okay, okay. I just... I got jealous, man. I mean, seeing you with her and all your Twitter shit and I couldn’t stand it. And then I freaked out, because bros don’t get jealous over other bros... and then I realised that, I dunno. I didn’t ever just think of you as a bro.”

Tyler bites his bottom lip, and nods. 

“Same,” he rasps out, and Segs smiles.

“I gathered, when you let me suck your dick and shit,” Segs says, and Tyler laughs.

“Is that why you want me to come to Boston with you? Because you want to give us a try?” he asks slowly, and Segs looks down at his hands.

“Yeah, I guess. I want you around me all the time, and I feel — God, I don’t know. I feel lost,” he says, and Tyler just fumbles and reaches for his hand, lacing their fingers together.

“We’re gonna be fine, man. Let’s just get through the summer first.”

 

*

 

They hang around in Wasaga for another week, before Tyler packs for the summer and Segs finds all his belongings, and they go back to Brampton for Segs’ mom’s wedding. Apparently Segs called ahead and told his family that Tyler was coming as his _actual_ date, not as his brodate, because the second Tyler steps into the house, Jackie is all on him and she’s crying.

“Oh baby, I’m so happy you and Ty finally got your act together,” she sniffles as she pulls Tyler into a bone-crushing hug, peppering wet kisses all over his face.

“Thanks?” he says, confused, while Segs drags their bags into the house.

“Ma, don’t be weird!” Segs whines and Jackie pulls back, glaring.

“Tyler told us that you two were, well... coming as a _couple_ ,” Jackie says and Tyler raises an eyebrow at Segs, who suddenly gets very interested in Marshall and Bud, yipping around their feet.

“Oh, _did_ he now?” Tyler says, and Segs coughs and blushes.

“Well, I thought we’re gonna be drinking and if like, you decide you can’t keep your hands off me because I look so good in a suit...” Segs says and Jackie laughs. His sisters appear and shower Tyler in hugs, then frogmarching him into the lounge to pump him for information.

“Has Ty done anything super romantic yet?” Cassidy coos from next to him, while Candace snorts.

“Ty doesn’t have a romantic fucking bone in his body, as if he’s done anything,” she says, amidst protests from Segs on the floor, wrestling with the dogs.

“The most romantic thing he’s done so far is take me home from a party when I was drunk,” Tyler says, and the girls make scarily high pitched noises while Segs swears. 

 

~

 

Dinner that night is a ridiculous affair; Jackie buzzes around trying to do everything before Jeff steps in and muscles her out the kitchen with a glass of wine, and she turns her focus onto the kids. Tyler’s been getting his ass kicked in _Words With Friends_ against the girls anyway, while Segs leans over his shoulder and is the _complete_ opposite of helpful.

“That’s not even a word!” he’d exclaims, more times that he could count. Segs always just shrugs and grins, biting his lip and being totally ridiculous. Tyler’s given up trying to win, and is just trying to minimize the damage the Seguin sisters have unleashed.

He gives up in disgust when Segs tries to suggest using ‘lamdas’ as a word — they watched all three _Lord of the Rings_ movies a while back, and he’s pretty sure Segs is attracted to Legolas, and settles in while Jackie stokes the fireplace and Jeff hums a tune in the kitchen. Segs is pressed against him, his legs slung over Tyler’s lap seconds later, and he snaps a picture while Tyler’s reading his Facebook feed and types furiously.

“What are you doing?” Tyler asks without even looking up, and Segs just sighs and opens some noisy game on his phone. Seconds later, Tyler’s phone beeps with a Twitter update from Segs’ page. He can see Segs smirking out the corner of his eye as he turns pink; he’s had Segs’ notifications sent directly to his phone for about as long as he can remember. 

He can’t even remember the last time he got on Twitter — too many memories of Julie, and he’s not surprised to see the last tweet he wrote was a retweet of Julie’s about them meeting up for a movie or something. He deletes it, and looks at his mentions. They’re mostly of fans asking where he’s gone, or apologising on behalf of the Flyers or something for not renewing his contract. It does suck; fucking stings, to be honest, so he just scrolls past them and finds Segs’ page. His latest is the picture he just snapped, along with the caption:

 **@tylerseguin92:** _in brampton with the fam & @tylerbrown1856 is 2 busy playin bejewelled to talk to me! #badwife_

 

Tyler rolls his eyes and Segs sniggers, but he looks closer. The picture is innocent enough; he’s frowning at his phone, looking sour like he always does, wearing one of Segs’ Boston caps backwards and his arms tensed, holding his phone. The part that gives him pause is that along the bottom of the picture, it’s clear to see Segs’ legs resting on his lap; one tucked underneath Tyler’s and the other sprawled lazily across the top — without thought or reason. 

That, coupled with the hat, is enough to make Tyler wonder if he needs to bring it to Segs’ attention and get him to delete it, or at least crop it to hide his legs. Before he can, he gets a notification that Jesse’s responded as well.

 **@jblacker91:** _@tylerseguin92 @tylerbrown1856 hanging out without me??? #jealous #beingreplaced #noonegiveshugslikeme_

 

He rolls his eyes and contemplates deleting his Twitter, but it’s good to keep in contact with all his friends and whatever fans he has left, he supposes. It’s probably time to change the handle, though. It’s not like those numbers mean anything anymore.

 **@tgbrown:** _new name, since im not playin hockey anymore._

 

Tyler looks up after he’s finished stalking the pages of his friends, looking for updates they haven’t told him about when he’s seen them, to find Segs watching him.

“What?” he asks, and Segs bites his lip.

“New name?” he asks, and Tyler shrugs.

“It was about time, I guess. Not like the numbers matter anymore.”

Segs pulls a face, and Tyler wonders if he’s said the wrong thing. It wasn’t like, a calculated fucking effort to piss him off or anything. It’s just supposed to help the transition, or something.

“It’s not like hockey wasn’t part of your life at all,” Segs starts and Tyler runs his palm along Segs’s calf, feeling the wiry hair spring and catch underneath his calloused palms. 

“It’s just a Twitter name, Ty. It’s not like I changed my last name or anything, jeez.” Tyler says, trying desperately to escape feeling like he’s being trapped in a corner with no way out. Cassidy laughs from the floor.

“C’mon, you’d totally hyphenate. Tyler Brown-Seguin sounds awesome,” she says absently as Candace leans over to show her something on her phone. Tyler pretends to gag, loudly, and Segs punches him.

“You’d be so lucky to get my last name!” he huffs, and Tyler rolls his eyes and pokes Segs, right in the ribs where he’s ticklish the most. The resulting scream in his face and wrestling match that breaks out is totally worth the bruises that pop up on his body later.

 

*

 

The night before the wedding, they go on their buck and hen nights. Tyler was astounded he was even invited, Segs snorting and cuffing him over the head. “Why wouldn’t he invite you, dumbass? You’ve been around our family pretty much as long as he has.”

It’s not a huge night, which is awesome since Tyler kind of wants to lay off the booze for a little while. They rent a hotel room and invite all his friends over, have a huge poker night in the penthouse, with access to their own private pool and staffed bar. It’s all kinds of amazing and Tyler has a crazy amount of fun. 

Jeff wants to keep relatively clear-minded for the wedding, so they find themselves leaving and going back to the house by 11. Candace is out at the hen night and Cassidy went with them for dinner but wasn’t allowed on the craziness that followed, so she’s at the house by herself. Segs surprised him by offering to have them babysit — amongst loud protests from Cassidy that she was _too old for a babysitter!_ — and Tyler assumed it was to get on his mom’s good side about something.

Instead, they come home from the hotel to find Cassidy in her room on her computer, skyping with her friends excitedly about the wedding, and Segs pushes him towards his old room.

“We’re changing outta these things and into something comfy,” Segs announces as they walk through the door, almost tripping over Tyler’s suitcases in the process. Tyler goes to leer something about them getting naked, but Segs pulls out a pair of dark sweatpants and a Bruins tee, so he stops. Apparently they really _are_ just getting more comfortable.

He leads their way back downstairs, and nudges Tyler into a seat on the sectional, flopping down next to him and slinging his leg over Tyler’s as they start surfing through the television.

“Wanna watch a movie?” he asks and Tyler nods, tapping out a text to his brother, ignoring the chirps from Jesse and the others about being home early on what could be an otherwise ‘huge’ night.

He doesn’t realise that he’s basically just walked into agreeing to watch a Nicholas Sparks movie, and turns from his phone to see Miley Cyrus arguing with her father. 

“Really?!” he exclaims, and Segs blushes.

“It’s all that’s on!” he fires back, and Tyler snorts. Somehow he really fucking doubts that if he wrestles the controller off Segs, he can’t find a superhero movie or Bruce Willis blowing shit the fuck up. He sighs loudly and settles in; it’s not like they don’t have a history of watching sappy romance movies together. He’s lost count of the times Segs and Jesse would sneak into films like this with him. They don’t even pretend not to enjoy them anymore, like they used to. No, it’s all freaking out over the storyline and the directing and the acting and the _storyline_. 

So, by the time Miley kisses her on-screen boyfriend (aren’t they like, married in real life now or something?), it doesn’t come as a surprise when he looks over and finds Segs mid sniffle, his eyes shining. He dabs at them covertly with the scoop collar of his tee, and looks over at Tyler, surprised when he finds Tyler already looking at him.

“ _Really_ ,” Tyler says dryly, and Segs just shrugs and moves closer, jabbing at his arm until Tyler lifts it so he can move closer, leaning his head against his collarbone.

“Too bad Cass is upstairs, she loves Liam Hemsworth,” Segs says softly, and Tyler hums in agreement against his head. 

After the movie finishes, they move around the room, packing up and turning lights off as they head upstairs. Cassidy is asleep, and they walk into Segs’ room, shutting the door behind them.

“Y’know, you’re taking to everything really fucking well, man. Kind of giving me a complex,” Tyler says as they climb into bed. Segs rolls on his side and regards him for a little while.

“What do you mean?” he asks, voice low. Tyler shrugs, lying on his back to stare up at the ceiling.

“Everything. Us, the wedding, the summer. Nothing bothers you,” he says and Segs snorts.

“Dude, stuff bothers me. I just... I learn when to make it an issue, and when to let it go.”

Tyler nods, and bites his lip as Segs pulls him closer, kissing him.

“Like, this? This is not one of the things I need to make an issue about. Not this,” he says, and Tyler rolls on top, nodding in agreement. 

 

*

 

The wedding is beautiful, held at their local church. It’s small, all family and close friends on both sides, and Jackie looks wonderful in her dress. He vaguely remembers Segs talking about flying his mother into New York and paying for like, some epic designer to make it for her. 

Segs gives his mother away and is crying by the time he makes it to the groom’s side, his new stepdad Jeff wiping away at tears as well. The ceremony goes fast and Tyler is sitting at the front, wedged between Segs’ French-Canadian grandma and one of Jackie’s sisters, both of whom seem to know about his new “status” and when they’re not clutching at his hands, are making sure that “Tyler is taking good care of you, baby.” 

Everyone calls him _baby_ , and it’d be mildly unnerving if he wasn’t already used to this family and their overly intimate nature.

After the ceremony, Segs sidles up to him and whispers, “You look _really_ fucking hot,” into his ear, following it with a quick lick of his earlobe. Tyler almost has to clutch onto a pew. 

“This is a church, you pervert!” he hisses, and Segs just snickers. He’s also highly paranoid that like, everyone is going to see and someone will take pictures and out them, but Segs tells him on the way to the reception that they got everyone to sign NDAs when they sent back their RSVPs, and anyone who didn’t wasn’t allowed to attend.

“That’s insane!” Tyler chokes out in the limo, this time pressed between Segs and Cassidy. Segs shrugs.

“Mom’s the one who suggested it. I told her we didn’t care, or want that, but she was pretty like... insistent. Everyone signed, so don’t worry. Just means we can actually touch each other,” Segs says, and squeezes Tyler’s thigh.

“The official reason was like, because I’m gonna be there and she wants me to feel comfortable having fun without worrying about people taking pictures and shit. Jeff’s side of the family were a bit pissy over it, but whatever. We’re not gonna make people like, check their phones at the door or anything but everyone knows what will happen if they break the NDA and anything gets out. So just, relax.” Segs says, and Cassidy grins up at him.

“I think that’s the new most romantic thing he’s ever done for you,” she says, and Tyler can only swallow around the lump in his mouth. Things are moving so fast, Segs adjusting to this new phase of their relationship a lot quicker than Tyler — which is absurd, considering how long Tyler’s wanted this.

 

He’s not even part of the wedding party, but both Jackie and Segs insisted he wear a pale purple shirt and one of the flowers the rest of the groomsmen have in their tuxedos, to match the purple and white theme of the wedding.

“Jackie, I—” Tyler had started to protest, but she’d just shoved a packaged shirt at him.

“It’s my wedding, I’ll have what I want!” she’d exclaimed, Segs snickering behind her. He and Segs had also gone halves in paying for the flights and accommodation for their honeymoon, sending them on a ten-day trip to Thailand, and Jackie had cried when they presented her and Jeff with the envelope and tickets.

“You two are — God, _thank you_ ,” Jeff had choked out, hugging them both.

“Welcome to the family,” was all Segs had said, a little misty eyed himself, and Tyler hadn’t trusted himself to speak so he just nodded.

 

At the reception, Jackie sat Tyler on the table closest to the bridal party, with the rest of her immediate family, and Jeff’s older brother and wife. 

“So, how did Ty ask you out?” Hannah asks as the first course is put on the table. Jeff’s older brother raises his eyebrow, obviously realising that this is what the NDA was for, and Tyler blushes and looks down at his salad.

“Uhm, I dunno. We didn’t exactly... there wasn’t a like ‘moment’ or anything. We just kind of uh, got together...” he trails off, and Hannah starts laughing. She’s the youngest, and the closest in age to Tyler, having turned 35 a few weeks earlier. 

“So _you’re_ why we signed the NDAs, huh?” Natalie says from the other side, waving the waiter over to fill her wine glass. Natalie is the middle child, and probably the one Tyler knows the least because she lives in Thunder Bay and doesn’t talk to Jackie much. 

“I guess so. Well, more Segs than me... I quit hockey over the summer. But Segs told Jackie not to do it, it wouldn’t matter... it’s not like we’re gonna be together much tonight or anything,” he shrugs, and Hannah snickers from next to him, her eyes over his shoulder.

“My nephew hasn’t taken his eyes off you since you sat down, baby. Look for yourself,” she says and Tyler peers over his shoulder to find Segs watching him, leaning back in his chair, his tie undone around his neck. He throws up a hand and waves, Tyler’s favourite smile on his face, and Tyler rolls his eyes and pokes out his tongue. 

“It’s about fucking time, anyway. You two were always so cute together,” Hannah adds on, clinking her wine glass against his.

“We were best friends, whatever...” Tyler trails off and Hannah shakes her head.

“Nu uh. Tyler has his — his boys, or whatever. You were always special.”

Tyler doesn’t know how to answer that, so he just nods and tries to focus on his breathing. 

 

The reception is a blast, and Tyler is pleasantly drunk by the time the speeches roll around. Jeff gets up first and doesn’t leave a dry eye in the house, followed by Cassidy and Candace who perform a song they composed. They both sing, and Candace has been playing the piano for as long as Tyler can remember so she’s good, and Jackie’s a mess by the time Segs takes the mic. 

He looks so fucking fine, having discarded his tie and jacket, his vest open around him and with his dress pants cut close, his ass is like a masterpiece. Tyler is definitely going to break a piece off tonight. 

Segs starts off thanking everyone for coming, his cheeks flushed from the wine Tyler has no doubt he’s been consuming steadily since they arrived, and speaks for a while on his mom and Jeff — how they met, how much of a good guy he seemed. Then, things take a turn for the interesting.

“Now, everyone here tonight had to sign NDAs... and that’s because of me, I’m sorry. My mom — I mean, I told her she didn’t need to, and she really didn’t, but she just... that’s who my mom is, always like, looking out for the best interests of her children. Jeff as well. It’s really humbling to know that she just, that they both just always go that extra distance. Now, he’s not part of the wedding party but he’s been in our lives ever since I was 16, and I — Ty, you wanna say something for Mom and Jeff?” he asks. Tyler wants to fucking duck and hide under the table, and Hannah’s absolutely dying with laughter next to him.

“Oh, God. I’m gonna kill him,” Tyler says, putting his napkin down and walking out onto the floor.

“The fuck—” Tyler starts to hiss, before Segs pulls him close and gives Tyler the microphone.

“I uh, sorry. I wasn’t expecting this but uhm, yeah. Jackie, Jeff, you guys are amazing and you’ve raised awesome kids, and Jackie... you were like a surrogate mom for me, all those years and I wish you the best of luck. Love you guys. I hope you enjoy the honeymoon,” Tyler manages to say, without stammering or swearing, and everyone erupts into cheers. Segs doesn’t move from his side, his hand pressing against his lower back, and Tyler feels like he’s gonna faint as Jackie descends from the table, Jeff on her heels, and she gathers Tyler and Segs up in her arms, sobbing.

“You two are so wonderful, I love you both so much,” she gasps out, and Tyler can only hang on and breath her in, giving Jeff a hug as well, and escaping back to his table. Hannah pinches his cheeks and kisses him, and even Natalie’s lost some of the frost she’s had all evening.

 

The bridal party dances, after Jackie and Jeff have their first dance to the Etta James song Tyler remembers that Julie used to like, and he sits back and watches Segs dance with Cassidy and wonders — the fuck, his life is so completely different than what he thought it’d be. He’s at his boyfriend’s ( _are_ they boyfriends?) mother’s wedding as his date, after years of pining, and he’s quit hockey and has no idea what’s coming next. 

“So... what’s after hockey?” Natalie asks from beside him, as if reading his mind.

“I’m going with Segs back to Boston, and I’ll decide while I’m there. I was gonna stay in Wasaga but he asked me to go, so I’m going. I’ve got enough money that I can do nothing for a few years or whatever but yeah. It’ll be nice to have some time to think,” he says, before Segs taps him on the arm.

“Dance?” he asks, holding out a hand. Tyler darts a look around, unsure.

“Ty, the — we’re in _public_ ,” he hisses and Segs rolls his eyes and grabs at his hand, pulling him up.

“That’s what the NDA is for, dickhead.”

Segs drags him into the fray of couples populating the floor and pulls him close, his hand settling back in the small of Tyler’s waist, their hands laced together and resting against Segs’ chest.

“You’re slow dancing with me at your mom’s wedding,” Tyler says a few beats later into Segs’ ear, and feels him chuckle and pull back.

“And you’re here with me, so whatever.” Segs doesn’t exactly make for a convincing argument, but the dance finishes and they clap, and then Segs drags him up to the main table. Cassidy and Candace have disappeared to go hang out with their cousins a few tables behind Tyler’s, so there’s spare seats on Jackie’s side that they sit in. Segs takes a selfie of them, and Brownie pulls a face and Segs laughs, taking more of them together. 

Segs presses a kiss to his cheek in one, and Tyler just — he’s buzzed enough, happy enough that he wraps an arm around Segs, pulling him closer and kissing him, Segs’ phone snapping away. When he pulls back, Segs can barely focus and Tyler laughs.

“Wow,” Segs whispers and puts his phone on the table, and Tyler laughs harder. They switch from wine to whiskey, and Segs’ sisters rejoin them a little while later. Instead of grabbing another chair, Segs just sits on his lap and Tyler wraps an arm around him, keeping him anchored.

“You guys are so fucking cute together, makes me sick,” Candace says and Tyler rolls his eyes, Segs leaning back against him and kissing his jaw line.

“He’s awesome,” Segs says and Cassidy swoons, complaining about the NDA preventing them from taking pictures.

“The official photographer will have pictures,” Tyler says and Cassidy glares.

“Of you two morons, not the wedding!” she exclaims, and Segs snorts.

 

They leave after midnight, taking the limo to Segs’ apartment in the city, where they left the dogs. Jesse’s stopped by for a few days but he’s out clubbing or something, and Tyler drags Segs into the house and to the bedroom, kissing him out of his clothes, leaving a trail as they go.

“Fucking... you looked so good tonight,” Tyler pants against his neck, laughing when Segs digs his fingers into Tyler’s ass.

“You have no— your pants, so _awesome_ on your ass,” Segs says back, and Tyler drops to his knees and sucks him off right there. Segs comes with his fingers clenched in Tyler’s hair, and manages to drag them to the bed, where he eats Tyler out until he’s shouting and begging for Segs to fuck him. Segs answers with some hand lotion and no condom, again. 

He doesn’t know what to think, when Segs is passed out and snoring next to him, or how to deal with how fast things are moving; everything he’s wanted, and more, being handed to him on a silver fucking platter.

 

When they wake up the next morning, it’s to Jesse yelling as he comes into the bedroom. Tyler wakes with a start, the blinds they forgot to close leaving the sunlight to stream into the room and right onto the bed. He’s got a headache — yet again — and is naked. This time, however, he’s covered in bite marks and bruises from Segs’ mouth, and his ass is itchy again. Segs is spread eagled on his back, naked and in similar shape, and it’s obvious as hell what they were doing last night.

“Since when!?” Jesse exclaims, and Tyler just fumbles to pull the covers over them.

“Fine, whatever, we’re talking about this when you’re awake properly!” he yells and slams the door, stomping off downstairs. Segs moans and shifts next to him, curling up around Tyler’s body and they fall back asleep under the blessed darkness of the covers.

 

Jesse, predictably, doesn’t let it go and they’re eating an extremely unhealthy lunch of McDonalds when he tries again.

“I quit hockey, we got together. That’s it,” Tyler says and Segs grunts his agreement, Marshall sprawled over his lap on the couch. Bud is in Tyler’s, and Jesse is sitting on the end of the sectional, looking scandalised.

“Totally isn’t it!” he exclaims, and Tyler rolls his eyes.

“What else do you want to know, moron?” he snaps, and Jesse flips him the bird.

“How long?”

“Uhm, I dunno. A few weeks? Less than a month. It’s kind of weird, we haven’t told anyone—”

“Except Segs took you to his mom’s wedding and macked on you all night?” Jesse says, and Tyler looks at Segs, who is going pink and pointedly not looking at them.

“Yeah, whatever. Look, don’t be weird about this—” Tyler starts, and Jesse actually looks even more pissed off, if possible.

“Fuck you Tyler, I’m not being fucking _homophobic_ or some shit! I just don’t want either of you getting hurt and fucking up the like, group dynamics or whatever! Dating in-friend is a huge no-no, but whatever. If you two assholes think you’ve got it on lock, then go ahead. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Jesse says and storms off, muttering about going for a walk. 

Tyler looks at Segs, who just shrugs and turns back to the _Real Housewives_ marathon he flipped over to during Jesse’s rant. It’s not like — it’s definitely a worry of his, messing things up for their friends, and he doesn’t want to be the reason they split or anything; they’re all Segs’ friends anyway, Tyler has just always been there.

 

*

 

The NHL 2013 draft takes place on June 30, and Tyler gets a phone call to say that Cody’s in the combine and it looks like he could go high.

“What?” he exclaims, and his dad laughs nervously.

“Yeah. Wilkes Barre, they uh. He’s going up for the big dance. We didn’t want to say anything earlier and jinx it, but it’s getting close. You and Tyler coming?” he asks, and Tyler looks down at Segs, dozing on the couch next to him. He shakes him, and Segs blinks awake slowly, smiling as he sees Tyler.

“My brother is going to the draft end of June. You wanna come?” he asks, and Tyler yawns for a moment and nods.

“Yeah, of course. Where is it?” he asks, and Tyler asks his dad.

“Newark, New Jersey. Colorado have the first pick,” his father says, and Tyler grips his phone tighter.

“Where’s Cody gonna go?” he asks, and his father exhales loudly.

“I don’t know. He was ranked fourth in the scouting reports.”

“You think he’s gonna go _fourth_?”

“I can’t say, Tyler. Look, I gotta go — but just, yeah. We’ll meet you in Jersey on the 29th.”

 

Tyler’s never been drafted, always signed as a free agent throughout his whole career, so it’s nerve wracking sitting in the Prudential Center, on the other side of his parents with Segs next to him. His brother’s a mess, and keeps playing with his tie and drumming his feet, and twice Tyler’s seen Michelle smack his leg to — fuck, to ground him or something.

The fourth pick comes in Nashville, but they take a Russian winger and it keeps going. Cody slumps in his seat, and Tyler shakes his head. He wants to reach out and reassure him, but he doesn’t know how. 

It reaches Boston, pick sixteen, and Segs leans forward, peering at the stage, wondering who’ll come to his team, to make a name for himself and the team.

Boston, who call for _Cody Brown_. 

Tyler just sits there for a second, while Segs jumps up next to him and starts yelling, and his mother bursts into tears while Michelle clings at him. Tyler gets back into it though, Segs pushing him from behind, and they both hug Cody at the same time.

“Congratulations, kid! We’re gonna fuckin’ dominate!” Segs yells, and Cody looks at Tyler, waiting for something — anything. Tyler just squeezes his shoulder.

“I’m proud of you. We’ll see you soon,” he says and Cody finally, _finally_ smiles and rushes down the stairs, pulling on a Bruins jersey and shaking hands, posing for a picture and staggering off stage.

“Holy shit, I can’t believe your brother is on my team!” Segs exclaims, sitting back down and tugging Tyler with him.

“Yeah, holy shit,” he says, and Segs laughs.

 

*

 

The rest of the summer is boring, now that he doesn’t have training or camps or a new team to think of, and it isn’t until the last couple of weeks, when they’re packing up the Toronto house and are looking at companies to get Tyler’s stuff shipped from Wasaga, when his agent calls. 

His father, along with being the coach of the Wasaga Stars, is also Tyler’s manager and usually deals with his agent, who is — _was_ — the same as Segs’, having made the change during his last season at Plymouth. He was the sole reason he got the deal with the Flyers. He already knows Tyler retired, so the fact he’s calling is weird.

“Hello?” Tyler asks, his phone jammed between his shoulder and cheek while he helps Segs strip the bed.

“Tyler Brown, long time no chat...” he says, and Tyler rolls his eyes.

“I’m not on your roster anymore, so I don’t understand why you’re calling me,” he says and gets a laugh. Segs raises his eyebrow but continues fighting with the duvet cover. 

“I thought you might say that, but I have something you’re not gonna wanna pass up. I know you said you’re done, and don’t want to fight for deals and to get outta the farm teams anymore, but Ottawa are looking for an enforcer. Namely someone who’s name starts with Tyler and ends with Brown. Five-year contract for $5.2 million, and a _guarantee_ you won’t get shipped down, for next season at least.”

Tyler drops the phone.

Segs looks at him, and Tyler just blinks.

“What?” he asks, and Tyler’s mouth forgets how to work for a second, before remembering himself and grabbing his phone.

“ _Hello?!_ ”

“...the fuck happened?”  
“I uh, I dropped the phone. Say _what_ now?” he exclaims, met with a snort.

“You heard me. Five-year deal, $5.2 million and guarantee to stay up next season. After that it’ll be on you to make sure you stay up, but yeah. Apparently you had some fans at the Flyers who felt bad about letting you go, and heard about Ottawa's enforcer issues. Obviously you’ll have more roles, and will continue to develop as a left-winger, but yeah. You’ve got 24 hours to get back to me with an answer.” Segs is still peering at Tyler, worry on his face, as Tyler hangs up.

“Dude, you look like you had a stroke. What’s going on?” 

“Ottawa just offered me a five-year deal, guaranteed to stay up next season.”

Segs stops folding the sheets.

“But... you retired,” he says dumbly, and Tyler nods.

“I-I _know_. He just, he said that someone in the Flyers got in contact with Ottawa and told them I was — I was good, I was what they needed. They must’ve watched game tape and decided to make an offer. I’ve got 24 hours.” He sits down on the edge of the bed, clutching a pillow case in his hands. Segs comes to sit down next to him, and presses their knees together.

“Ty,” he starts, and Tyler nods.

“I know. I _know_ , fuck. I know. I just, I don’t know... at all. Five years is a long fucking time. And that money... that’s good money.”

“What if they don’t want to keep you up? God, I don’t even know where Ottawa’s farm team is.”

“It’s in New York,” Tyler says, searching for Ottawa — which isn’t so bad. He probably wouldn’t be allowed to return to his billet family or anything, but at least he’d be in familiar surroundings. 

“Ty, I mean. That’s so awesome, that they want you...” Segs struggles, and Tyler looks at him.

“But, how are we gonna... five _years?_ I just — I mean, how can we...” 

Tyler looks down at his hands, not saying anything.

“I want us to work out. And I just, that’s a long time, man. I’m sure we could... but, like. It’s so risky, y’know? Five years of only seeing each other in the summer, really. Maybe a couple times a season, or whatever. That’s a long time of looking over our shoulders, being constantly worried and just — it could mess us up, being that paranoid all the time.”

“And we’re not going to be paranoid _now?_ You’re still in the NHL, Segs. You’re still in the spotlight. I’m the one who’s — who’s a regular guy again,” Tyler says and Segs rubs his face.

“Yeah, but it’s easier to protect you, like this. If you’re not in the spotlight as well, I don’t have to worry as much. You can still live your life.”

“People are always gonna ask questions. Someone like you being single until you retire?” Tyler asks and Segs moves closer, knocking a hand free and lacing theirs together.

“Then I’ll get a beard, I don’t care. I just want you to be okay. I think we stand a better chance like this — this way. I promise I’ll take care of you. Even if we break up. I’ll sign a contract if you want me to, I’ll do whatever. I just — I don’t think I’m smart enough to do this if we’re both playing hockey. It’ll be too risky and now... we know how good we are together.”

“How am I supposed to choose between you and hockey?” Tyler asks, and Segs looks miserable.

“I can’t ask you to,” he says slowly, and Tyler leans in and kisses him, deep and sweet. It feels kind of perfect, like coming home after a long day, and hockey just — they want him to be an enforcer, which means broken bones and fights, barely any playing time and no guarantees in the end. Segs isn’t a guarantee either, but he’d rather — maybe he’d rather be covered in Segs, than in blood. He’d already made up his mind at the start of the summer break, that he was sick of the sport, that it didn’t control him like it did when he was younger. This was just reaffirming it, reaffirming his changing priorities and his new outlook on life.

“I won’t take it,” he says as he pulls back, and Segs just nods.

 

He goes for a walk and finds an empty park, and sits down on the bench and rubs his fingers along his phone. He dials his brother’s number and waits.

“Bro!” Cody calls down the phone, and Tyler laughs.

“Hey bud, what’s up?” he asks, and Cody yawns loudly.

“Not much. Just packing up my stuff, trying to figure out what I wanna keep. Jess is over too,” his voice dips at the end, and Tyler frowns. Jess and Cody had been together since they were 16, and him moving to Boston was going to be hard — especially since she’d been accepted into university in Vancouver. 

“Oh. Uh, you want me to ring back later?” he asks, but Cody tells him it’s okay and waits.

“Ottawa just offered me a five-year deal, as their enforcer. $5.2 million,” he says.

“Does Dad know?” he asks, and Tyler shrugs.

“Probably. They would’ve had to go through him before calling me,” he says and Cody swears again.

“But...” he trails off.

“But what?”

“Well... you retired. Why are they offering you this now?”

“I think they haven’t had an enforcer for the past few seasons and it’s obvious in their play. I don’t really know, this is just what they want and apparently the Flyers put me forward for it,” he says and Cody hums.

“What about Tyler?” he asks, and Tyler rubs his face.

“What do you mean?” he fires back and Cody laughs.

“I’m not fucking stupid, Ty. I can tell things have changed between you two,” he says, and Tyler rubs his face.

“You can’t— don’t tell Mom or Dad, or Michelle. I don’t know what the fuck’s going on,” he whispers, curling into himself.

“Dude, they all know you’ve been in love with Segs for years. It’s why they were all so surprised when you shacked up with Julie. We all thought you were gay.”

Tyler moans, and shakes his head. God, the last thing he expected in this conversation with his brother was coming out — apparently not even that, since his whole family thought he was gay. 

“It wasn’t a jealousy thing. I really did love her,” Tyler says slowly, tracing his foot against the grass. He did love her — she was his first girlfriend, the first girl he’d really been in love with, and her leaving had been tough. 

“We know you did, bud. It was pretty obvious. But you’re with him now, right? You went to his mom’s wedding as his _date_ , and Jackie made everyone sign NDAs,” he says.

“How the hell did you hear about that?” he asks, and Cody sighs loudly.

“Candace and I talk,” he finally admits and Tyler frowns.

“Since when?”

“Since none of your fucking business, okay? Look, if you go to Ottawa, you and Segs are basically over — you know that, right? Even if you guys did decide it was worth it to try a long-distance thing, how the fuck are you ever gonna like... _be_ together? You can’t just wait for the summers,” Cody says, and Tyler looks up at the sky. It’s a cornflower blue, not a cloud in sight, the sunshine burning brightly. It’s a beautiful day.

“We’d be in the same division, so we’d play each other a lot... and Ottawa isn’t _that_ far from Boston...” he trails off.

“Dude, it’s a whole ‘nother country and like, at least a six-to-eight-hour drive? Probably more than that, I can’t guess distances for shit.”

“Whatever. I don’t know. Is — how the fuck do I decide if a ‘maybe something’ is worth more than something... something like, tangible. Something in front of me, solid and written on a contract and like, something I know is certain?” he says.

“As far as I can see, man, Segs is a pretty damn sure thing, too. Candace told me — God, okay. Look, if I tell you this, you can’t tell Segs you know, okay?” he says, and Tyler agrees.

“Candace told me that Segs told his mom about you guys being together, and... Jackie asked if it was serious. Like, forever serious, and he said yes. That’s when she said she’d get everyone to sign NDAs, so she could see you two together or whatever. Apparently he thinks you guys are more than a ‘maybe something’. Maybe you need to rethink how you feel, if he’s more into you than you’re into him?” Cody says, and Tyler feels frozen solid.

“Ty?” Cody asks, a few beats later.

“Yeah, sorry. Uhm, fuck — okay, uh. I definitely won’t take the Ottawa gig, then. Fuck, wow.”

Cody laughs and calls him stupid, before they say goodbye and hang up. Tyler calls his agent back, tells him he’s retired, and that goes for anything. His agent seems surprised but tells him he’ll keep his ear to the ground anyway, and to have a good life. It seems so final, so definite and so intimidating that he just — that he picked Segs over hockey.

A decision that seems so unreal, one he’d never have to make. But, he’s finished, and being finished means finished with everything. Segs, apparently, is willing to take enough of a gamble on him, so the least he can do is — well, do the same.

 

When he gets back to the apartment, Segs is sitting on the floor in the lounge room, playing with Marshall and Bud.

“You okay?” he asks, before Tyler steps over the dogs and sinks down to straddle Segs’ lap, pulling him close and kissing him deep.

“What’s all this?” he asks, dazed when he pulls back. Tyler just smiles and wraps his arms around Segs’ neck.

“I’m not taking the Ottawa deal. I said I was retired, so I’m retired. I’ll be your housewife for as long as I fucking want,” he says, and Segs laughs and kisses him again and again, until he stops smiling and starts moaning, open and wanting, fingers sliding against bare skin. 

 

*

 

They arrive in Boston on Wednesday night. Freddy’s already back from Toronto and is in the living room, watching what looks suspiciously like Grey’s Anatomy when they trample through the doorway, dogs barking and yelping around their legs.

“You’re back!” Freddy exclaims, jumping up and hugging Segs.

“What’re you doing here?” he asks Tyler, hugging him as well. Segs clears his throat, and reaches for his hand, but Tyler elbows him.

“We’re fucking now, and I retired from hockey. So, I’m here until I figure out what I’m doing next,” Tyler says, and Freddy just — he just _shrugs_. 

“Cool. You want leftovers? I’ve got beef and black bean, fried rice and honey chicken,” he says, wandering into the kitchen. Tyler nods and follows him, Bud whining behind him.

 

Tyler decides he’s putting his things in the spare room, and pointedly ignores the hurt look on Segs’ face when he announces his intentions to the removalists.

“I need my own space. I’ll be sleeping with you most nights, but I don’t wanna be one of those people who sleep with their partner’s shirts every time they leave, or some shit.” 

Segs finds that thought hilarious, and starts leaving his stuff all over Tyler’s room as punishment, it seems. If Tyler plans on using them as sleeping shirts sometimes, then that’s nobody’s business but his own.

 

While Segs is out that afternoon picking up food for their empty fridge, Cody texts him and tells him he’s driving Tyler’s SUV down with the rest of his things. He has meetings to attend with the Boston staff before preseason camp starts, and Segs has been making noises for the past couple of days that he’s thinking about asking to billet Cody for his rookie season, if he stays up.

It means either Tyler will move into Segs’ room, or they’ll kick Freddy out. Either way, Tyler’s not sure what to feel. 

“So, you’re fucking now?” Freddy asks as Tyler fries up some chicken for lunch. Tyler hitches a shoulder and focuses on his chicken. It definitely shouldn’t be _that_ pink. 

“Just kind of happened. I went to Jackie’s wedding and she made everyone sign NDAs so Segs could like, hold my hand and shit. It was crazy,” Tyler says, and Freddy looks — well, he looks happy.

“Good. You guys danced around it for years or whatever. Is that why you quit hockey, so it was easier?” he asks, and Tyler frowns at his stove. His original plan wasn’t, but the second time kind of was... thanks to his brother. So, he takes the easy way out.

“No. We weren’t together when I decided to retire,” he says, not liking the term ‘quit’. He didn’t quit, he just... he gave up, after a long time. Whatever.

“And your brother? Is Segs gonna ask him to move in if he makes it past prospect camp?” he asks, and Tyler slides the chicken onto a plate, with rice and vegetables. The blandest meal ever, but he’s still weaning himself off his hockey player diet. The other day he had a panic attack when he ate a whole bag Doritos and was on the treadmill in Segs’ makeshift gym for almost twenty minutes before he realised he didn’t need to be. It was kind of embarrassing and he’s glad only Bud and Marshall were around to look judgemental at him.

“I think he wants to. It means he’ll have to go in my room, and I’ll have to share with Segs...”

“Considering you spend every night in there anyway, and most of your clothes are in there — not exactly a stretch, my man.”

Tyler just rolls his eyes and turns back to his food. Freddy’s right, and the sooner he stops being a dick about it, the better.

 

Segs approaches him later that night, when Tyler’s flipping through an old copy of Sports Illustrated he found stuffed down the side of the couch (the Kate Upton one, because _come on_ ). Tyler sighs, and Segs looks firmly at him.

“I’m gonna tell the Bruins we’ll billet Cody this season, if things go well.” 

Tyler raises an eyebrow. “Okay?”

“Well, I just... he’s your brother. I wanted to let you know?” Segs asks, rubbing the back of his head. Tyler just shrugs and tugs on Segs’ tee.

“Cool, whatever. Now... less talking, more sex?” he asks, bored with Kate Upton now that Segs is in front of him. Segs snorts but follows willingly, kissing him and groaning happily as Tyler’s fingers slide underneath the material of his clothes. 

 

*

 

Segs eventually gets around to asking the Bruins if he can billet Cody, considering he knows the kid and his brother is also living with him. When Cody arrives a couple of days later in preparation for prospect camp, he moves straight into the spare room out the back of the SUV. 

“You okay with this?” Cody asks as they’re lugging his plasma inside, and Tyler shrugs. Living with three hockey players isn’t exactly unlike anything else he’s been through — and he’s that sure his brother isn’t gonna get sent to Providence, so. Besides, he’s kind of been staring down college applications for the past while and wants a second opinion. Cody graduated top of his class from high school, and got into college before hockey got in the way. 

“I guess so. Besides, I need help picking a degree,” he says as they put the TV down and head into the kitchen, and Cody laughs.

“You hated school, and you can’t spell for shit,” he says and Tyler glares.

“I was thinking like, getting a degree in accounting and becoming a CPA or something.”

“You want to be an _accountant?_ ” he asks, and Tyler is a second from punching him.

“I don’t fucking know! It’s why I need advice, dickbag!”

Cody holds up his hands, leaning closer at the choices he’s spread out on the table. He’s got prospectuses for architecture, history, accounting and physical education spread out on the table, red pen and highlighter and pages of notes everywhere.

“Architecture could be cool. You always did spend ages pouring over those house plans and shit, and drawing up your own. I think Mom’s still got them stashed in the basement... then again, doing a degree in physical education would probably fit you better,” he says, and Tyler nods. 

“Is BU a good place to do this stuff?” Cody asks, and that’s where Tyler’s been wanting to go, throughout it all.

“Yeah, it is. I think I’m gonna apply,” he says, and tells Segs the same thing later that night when they’re getting ready for bed.

Segs smiles down at him, and bites his lip.

“If that’s what you want, man, then go for it. It sounds awesome.”

 

*

 

Tyler applies for January admission into a degree of Physical Education, since he missed the cutoff for the September entrance, and stares at his laptop trying to think of something to write for his admissions essay. 

“If you stare at it any harder, it’s gonna catch on fire,” Cody jokes from the lounge up at Tyler, who’s still using the dining room table as his desk, with his laptop and various notebooks. 

(He had to get his mom to send all his high school final scores, and he had a feeling he was going to have some serious visa issues, since his new status is ‘unemployed illegal Canadian still in America’. He’d mentioned it to Segs, who laughed in his face.

“Dude, I got the club to add you as a dependent to my like... working status thing or whatever the fuck it is. You’re gold, don’t worry.” Tyler felt like he’d been punched in the stomach.

“Wow,” was all he could manage, before shoving Segs against the wall and kissing him stupid.)

“I don’t know what to write for my admissions essay,” he says, and Cody rolls his eyes.

“Use mine, it got me in so it must’ve been alright...” he says as he walks over, and Tyler shakes his head.

“No, I want it to be — I want it to be _mine_. Then I’ll know I either like, failed or passed on my own merit. I just don’t know what to write about.”

Cody slaps a hand down on his shoulder, rolling his eyes.

“Write about the fact you used to be a pro hockey player who retired because he was sick of the rat race, and got himself a super hot boyfriend in the process? Any university loves like, social justice and equality bullshit,” Cody says, drifting off to the fridge. Tyler frowns, but he knows his brother has a point, so he opens Word and starts to write.

His essay isn’t amazing, and he has to send it to his aunt, who is an English teacher back in Wasaga, just to make sure he isn’t talking in circles and all his spelling is okay. She calls him and cries for ten minutes about how brave he is and how wonderful an essay it is, and he comes away feeling both uplifted and extremely uncomfortable. He’s just come out to his aunt, and he still hasn’t really talked to his parents about the Segs thing. 

Needless to say, he isn’t going to hear anything back until December, which beyond sucks and means he’s got like, half a year to fill between now and then. His brother and Segs disappear on their pre-season camp for two weeks, and Freddy has his own university hockey camp to go on, so he’s left alone with the dogs and his thoughts for a fortnight. 

 

It’s kind of nice, being able to just sit and think, without any pressure to socialise or be happy; to just exist for a while. Segs gets Tyler onto his money manager (some super efficient lady who comes well recommended from the club) and she locks most of it up in a bunch of stocks and high interest accounts. Segs also hands Tyler a credit card the night before they leave for camp, when Tyler’s coming from their bedroom with dirty clothes in his arms. 

“What’s this?” he asks, and Segs rolls his eyes — like Tyler’s the moron in this equation.

“It’s an Amex, stupid. Whatever you need to buy, just charge it to that. The pin number is on a Post-It at the back,” he says, flipping it to reveal an obnoxiously pink tab and his scratchy handwriting. Tyler frowns.

“Look, don’t even try on that bullshit on me. Me and your parents made sure the accountant tied up _all_ your money, bro, and stashed some in case the markets crashed, so my money is all you got right now.”

“Tyler, I was joking about being your trophy wife—” Tyler starts to exclaim, but Segs hipchecks him back against the bedroom door, the laundry dropping to the floor between them.

“I didn’t say you were, you non. I told you when I asked you to move here that I was gonna take care of you, and I meant it. Go buy yourself new clothes, because all of this is whack. Go get a new laptop for school, do some winter reading, take up lawn bowls for all I fucking care. Just — use this, okay? I’m gonna be checking. And buy some shit for the house, it’s looking like a lame-ass bachelor pad,” Segs says before closing the distance and kissing him.

“Okay,” he says belatedly, and Segs snorts and tucks the card into his back pocket.

“We can also work on getting that stupid frown off your face for a bit,” he adds on, laughing as Tyler tries to resist smiling, before bursting into laughter as Segs licks his cheek.

“You’re so fucking gross,” he exclaims, Segs tugging him towards the bed.

 

It takes him four days and daily abusive calls from Segs before he locks Bud and Marshall in the downstairs bathroom and goes to Ikea. Segs is right — the place looks nasty, and they need a new dining table and he probably should replace their TV. He got a little animated playing Wii the night before, and now there’s an interesting crack where he’d lost the controller. 

He feels ridiculously guilty, picking a TV a few inches bigger than the one he’d broken, and the only dining table and chair combo he remotely likes (that would fit with the like, environment of the house or whatever) is like, $4000. He can’t even hide his wince when the lady at the store scans the product codes and tells him the final price. 

When he gets back to the house, Segs is calling and he starts up with the apologies as soon as he answers.

“Dude I am so sorry, I broke the TV and I was gonna put it on my card but you really did like, fucking hide all my money, you douchebag. And like, then I just — I’ll get the woman at the bank to free some of it up so I can—” he starts, before Segs yells.

“Shut up, asshole! I’m just calling to say it’s about fucking time you bought some stuff. So... so stop apologising and be normal.”

It’s never going to be normal, and Tyler doesn’t want it to be, and makes a note to contact the bank later and get access to more of his money. He’s got no idea how Segs even convinced them to do anything; probably pretended to be him — he isn’t exactly inventive with any of his passwords or codes, either. 

 

*

 

Having been so active for so many years of his life, the concept of doing nothing is so strange, especially with an empty house, and by the end of Segs and Cody’s camp, Tyler has figuratively hit rock bottom.

They come home one afternoon to find Tyler passed out in his boxers and a t-shirt stained with pizza, a _Real Housewives_ marathon droning in the background.

“Jesus, what the fuck happened in here?” Segs announces as they pick their way through, Cody heading straight to his bedroom. Marshall and Bud greet him loudly but Tyler doesn’t even stir, not until after Segs pushes off his shoes and pokes him in the ribs with a toe.

“Wake up, fatty!” Segs yells and Tyler moans, blinking blearily up at him.

“You’re back,” he sighs, and Segs snorts.

“You’ve got pepperoni in your beard,” he says, but leans down and kisses Tyler anyway.

“Ugh, and you taste like... stale Red Bull,” he says and pulls at Tyler until he stumbles upright. Segs pushes him into the shower, shoving a toothbrush in his mouth and stripping down himself. Tyler’s bent in half, trying to spit as close to the drain as possible, when Segs grips at his hips and grinds against him.

“Seriously? I just woke up,” Tyler sighs and pulls away, turning around. Despite himself, he feels his jaw work a little harder not to drop as Segs grins and soaps himself up, clenching at his stomach muscles so his abs pop.

“You’re such a fucking...” Tyler trails off, moving back in and kissing him, biting at his lips. 

“You love it,” Segs whispers, digging his fingers in the crease of Tyler’s ass, grinding them together. 

Needless to say, Tyler gets a nice orgasm, and Segs drags them into bed so he can resume his nap, and they don’t wake up until his alarm goes off an hour later, and they do it all again.

 

Cody’s constantly in a disgusting mood since they got back from camp, where Coach Julien told him he wasn’t getting sent down — that he’s a _Bruin_. They take him out drinking, and Tyler gets to bump and grind with Segs in the club for a bit, so it’s a good night. He’s happy for his brother, even if Cody’s creeping around like the slightest thing will break him. He’s not made of glass, for fuck’s sake. He can handle the fact his brother is going to do everything he wasn’t able to.

“I can’t just — fuck, I’m so bored. What am I gonna do until December?” Tyler whines to them at dinner the next evening, more chicken and pasta for the boys and an awesome steak for himself, and Segs and Cody both shrug.

“Go back to Wasaga for a while, maybe until after you get your offers?” Cody offers, and Segs cuts him off with a “What? _No!_ ” that has them both staring at him.

“Why?” Tyler asks, and Segs frowns and starts pushing his pasta around his plate. 

“I dunno... aren’t you supposed to be like, making a life for yourself here?” Segs asks, and Tyler raises his eyebrow.

“Yeah, but I can’t really do anything until university starts, y’know? And you guys are constantly like, on the road and shit once the season starts... and I don’t know anyone here. And no, I am not going to start hanging out with the wives.” Tyler exclaims, pointing his knife at Segs, who closes his mouth. 

“Mom would want you back until Christmas. I think we get a week off mid-December or something, so I’ll come home for that and stuff. But you’ll be studying and shit for the next few years so you won’t have many chances or whatever,” Cody says, and Tyler nods.

“Alright. It’ll give me a chance to pack up my stuff that’s left there, help Mom and Dad out with stuff around the house, see family and friends... it’ll be good.”

Segs pushes his chair back and grabs his plate. 

“Yeah, fucking awesome,” he snaps and dumps his plate in the kitchen, walking off to their bedroom and slamming the door shut. Tyler looks at Cody, who shakes his head.

 

When he heads to bed after thoroughly trouncing Cody at NHL, Segs is asleep. He changes and slides into bed, staying on his side and flicking through some games on his phone until the picture swims in front of him. He turns off his lamp and yawns, rolling over and settling down. 

It isn’t long until Segs moves closer, tucking himself against Tyler’s back and wrapping his arm around Tyler’s side, his hand resting against Tyler’s chest. Tyler laces their fingers together and goes to ask what the fuck’s gotten into Segs, when Segs kisses the back of his neck and nuzzles against him.

“What’s going on?” Tyler asks, waiting for Segs to explain his weird behaviour. Segs says nothing, just lets out a sigh and grips him harder. Tyler shuffles even closer, his ass pressing back against Segs’ hips, and they fall asleep tangled together for the first time in far too long. 

 

~

 

He wakes up on his back, Segs wrapped around him like a hairy, tattooed octopus. He rolls his eyes at the mental images and rubs his face, yawning and stretching as best he can from within Segs’ death grip.

“Seggy, lemme go... I need’a pee,” he rasps. Segs moans but lets go, rolling into the space Tyler leaves behind. He staggers into their bathroom, washing his hands and heads back to bed, nudging Segs aside to crawl back in. He vaguely remembers Cody mentioning they don’t have training that morning, because the Bruins are headed to New York for their first game a couple of days after that, so it’s their last-ditch attempt to cling to the freedom of summer.

“Feels like I’m always gonna be watching you leave, man...” Tyler sighs, relaxing into the warm bed and Segs moving against him. He noses against Tyler’s neck, his mouth pulling into a frown.

“Sorry,” he mutters, pressing a kiss there, before falling asleep again. Tyler swallows around the lump in his throat and follows him.

 

*

 

The Bruins’ season starts with three away games; it’ll take a few days before Cody and Segs are back, and Freddy’s on a long stretch of away games too, so Tyler spends the time sorting through his shit and trying to figure out how to get back to Wasaga. The obvious answer is to fly, but he wants to take Bud and his car is here — thanks to Cody, so it looks like he’s driving.

He leaves Google Maps open while he eats dinner the night they get back, staring at it and trying to make the ten-hour journey shorter by any means possible. The others ate on the plane, so he’s dining for one; KD out of a large bowl. It seems crazy how much food he eats now, weaning himself away from the crazy athlete diet to something more manageable. 

“How long?” Cody asks, leaning over his shoulder, and Tyler spoons some macaroni into his mouth and chews thoughtfully. 

“Probably nine and a half? If I drive all the way through New York, I can cross over through Buffalo or something and just go north. Should I see your mom on my way, Segs?” Tyler asks, as Segs walks past into the kitchen.

“Huh?” he asks, and Tyler rolls his eyes.

“Your mom. Do you want me to see her on my way back?” he repeats, and Segs shrugs.

“I guess so.”

Tyler frowns, but Cody just nudges his arm, and he looks back at the screen, pointing with the end of his spoon.

“I could go up north, cross up near Kingston and go down the coast. It’ll take longer, though, and I don’t wanna be stuck in a car with Bud any longer than I have to be,” he says, looking at his dog chewing on a sneaker under the table. 

 

He tells his parents he’s coming back until after Christmas, and the first question on their lips is about Segs.

“Is Tyler okay with that? I mean, he offered you his house and everything... aren’t you supposed to be there, taking care of it?” his dad asks, and he snorts.

“I’m not a maid, Dad. Segs is fine,” he lies, his fingers tightening in Bud’s fur. Segs is most definitely not fine about something, but he won’t tell Tyler every time he asks, so he’s given up asking.

 

*

 

The trip is timed for their next away leg, which is only one game, but Freddy’s out on IR so it’s not like the house is gonna be empty or anything. Segs has been quiet all day, and Tyler’s packing the last of his toiletries up, leaving the last few bits until his shower in the morning, and sits on the end of the bed while Segs lies on his side. 

“So, are we gonna talk or are you just gonna like... punish me for something I don’t know that I did?” Tyler asks, and Segs rolls over and looks at him.

“Punishing you?” he asks, and Tyler scoffs.

“You’ve been fucking weird for ages now, and I don’t — I haven’t done anything. Why are you being weird?”

Segs opens his mouth, and Tyler holds his breath, but he just shakes his head and turns back around.

“Forget it,” he mutters and Tyler sighs.

 

They don’t speak again until Tyler’s snapping his suitcase shut, his hair wet under his cap. He feels uneasy, and doesn’t want to leave this shit with Segs like it is; both Freddy and Cody have cleared out to leave them alone.

“Segs...” Tyler starts, standing up. Segs is leaning against the doorway, watching him with an unreadable expression on his face. He just shakes his head and walks forward, pulling Tyler into a hug and pressing his face against his neck. 

“I’m gonna miss you,” he says, and Tyler clings back, suddenly not wanting to let go. He kisses him, framing Segs’ face with his hands, and Segs kisses back just as desperately, hands roaming under his tee. 

“Fuck me,” Segs breathes as he pulls back, and Tyler nods and drags him back into their bedroom, slamming the door with his foot and shoving Segs onto the bed.

 

It’s fast and sad, and Tyler feels even worse than he did before when he comes inside Segs, his pants down around his ankles and his shirt pulled up over one shoulder. 

“You should go,” Segs says, lying flat on his back, come splashed across his abs as they rise and fall with his breathing. Tyler nods and tucks himself back in, pulling his t-shirt down. He leans over and kisses Segs, nosing against his cheek and breathing him in.

“I’ll call you when I get there,” he whispers and Segs nods, their fingers tangling together. It feels — it feels _wrong_ , all of a sudden, and he’s not sure he can go. 

He turns and grabs his cap off the floor, slipping into the house and grabbing Bud’s leash.

“C’mon Bud, let’s go.”

 

The drive is alright enough — he leaves early and hits country New York before lunch time, and only has to stop a few times to let Bud out to take a leak and run around. Otherwise, he just sits in the passenger seat and stares at Tyler with baleful eyes. Like, _how dare you leave Segs lying in his bed, fucked out and raw, feeling just like you_. He shakes his head and turns the music up louder, trying to drown out his thoughts.

His brother, however, doesn’t stay so silent. He stops to eat in Syracuse and checks his phone as he sits on the passenger seat, watching Bud chase butterflies in the park. It rings, and he jams it between his shoulder and chin.

“H’lo?” he asks around a mouthful of burger.

“Ty, did you seriously just fuck Segs and _leave?_ ” Cody hisses, and Tyler sighs, his appetite going.

“Dude, I’m eating. C’mon now...” 

“Don’t fucking care! That’s such a dog move!”

“ _How_ is it a dog move? It was a farewell fuck, whatever. He’s bailed on heaps of girls—”

“Who weren’t his fucking boyfriend, or whatever! You’re such an idiot.”

“Oh, so what, I’m just not allowed to ever touch him again? You make it sound like I abused him or something, for fuck’s sake!”

“Emotionally, maybe! Something’s obviously wrong with him, and instead of dealing with it, you just decide on a quick fuck and then bail!”

Tyler knows his brother, knows he’s heading into an epic rant, and he feels bad enough about going — so he just hangs up and turns his phone off. 

 

He doesn’t turn it back on until he’s making his way past the shitty _WELCOME TO WASAGA BEACH_ sign, and flicks Segs a text to say he got there okay and he’ll call tonight after their game. Cody called several more times and left a couple of abusive texts, but he forgets about them when he gets out the car, Bud barking joyfully at the freedom, and his parents greet him.

“How’s Tyler?” his mom asks, and Tyler shrugs and asks about his grandparents, effectively derailing his mom from any further questions.

 

*

 

The first couple of weeks are good, spent catching up with whatever friends are left and being settled at home in only the way home can give him. Wasaga is small, and everyone knows him — everyone was happy for him to make it into hockey, and now everyone knows he gave up on it and is... well. Living in sin in Boston, or something. It gets old fast, though; most of his non-hockey friends are married or have moved, so the only ones that’re left make Tyler feel kind of empty and unfinished inside. Like — like this isn’t where he needs to be anymore. 

Segs and him talk a little, but he’s distant and Tyler doesn’t know how to break through, so they talk less and less. It isn’t until mid-November, when Segs starts leaving him drunken voicemails he can’t understand, that he resorts to getting help.

“I was wondering when you’d call me, douchebag.” Jesse greets him as Tyler lies on his bed, working out the kinks from shinny. Turns out his cousins have even more skill than he does (did?), and he found himself getting regularly schooled by 12-year-olds, little punks.

“Why would I waste my time talking to you when I can talk to anyone else on the planet?” Tyler drawls, and Jesse chuckles.

“So, you do what every other guy does and rings the best friend,” Jesse says, giving up any pretense that they’re going to talk about anything but Segs.

“He keeps leaving me drunk voicemails. I wouldn’t — I mean, I don’t care but I can’t understand what he’s saying... he slurs too much. I haven’t called him in over a week because whenever I do call and talk to him, he just... he’s checked out. I know he’s not listening and doesn’t care, and I _know_ I’m still being punished for something but he won’t fucking talk to me!” Tyler explodes, a little breathless at the end.

“Well, this is interesting.” Jesse says and Tyler glares. 

“Because I heard that you just decided to bail on Segs for like, three months. After he invited you into his home and his heart or whatever,” Jesse says, and Tyler blanches.

“ _What?_ ” he exclaims, and Jesse sighs loudly.

“Picture this... and I know it’s gonna be hard for you, since you’re such a dumb motherfucker, but just _try_ for me.”

Tyler glares at his roof but stays silent until Jesse starts talking again.

“So, you have this bro, right? And he’s like, one of your best bros ever, and you’ve been kind of really into him for ages but he’s got a girl. And you’re really jealous and know you’d be a huge douchebag if you were around them, so you avoid them. Which, in itself, is a massively douche move, but whatever. So, this bro breaks up with his girl and quits his job, kind of super fucking randomly, so you drop _everything_ , all your plans with all your other friends, and drive to his shitty little hometown to make sure he’s not drinking himself to death or like, spiralling or something. And then you find out that your bro is actually into your dick, so you hook up. And you take your bro to your mom’s wedding, and hold his hand and like, basically tell him he’s the only one for you — and then he starts talking about getting a new job, that’d mean he’d be away for months at a time.”

Jesse takes a breath, and Tyler’s — it’s like watching, or listening to, a car wreck or something. He knows what’s coming, he can see it, but hearing it is so much worse.

“Even after all you’ve done, like... risking yourself and outing yourself to hundreds of people. But hey, your bro doesn’t take the job and you tell him to come live with you where your job is. You tell him you’ll support him, protect him — whatever. Your bro agrees, and doesn’t even make it a month before he’s bitching about being bored. Before he starts looking for any excuse to book it away from you, and your house, and the family kind of environment you’re trying to build for him. You even take in your bro’s bro, you’re that into this guy and you want him to be comfortable. You still with me, Brownie?”

Tyler’s rolled onto his side, curled up in a ball. It’s so pathetic — hearing everything spelled out like this, he can barely breathe. He can’t cry though, not in front of Jesse. 

“Yeah,” he manages to force out, and Jesse keeps going.

“So, you’re mad — right? You’ve got every reason to be, but your bro is so fucking happy about leaving, about leaving you for months, that you start thinking maybe... maybe this wasn’t everything you thought it was. Maybe he wasn’t as into you as you’re into him. Because he’s it for you, y’know? He’s all you want, and it’s — it’s kind of heartbreaking.”

“Fuck,” Tyler says, and Jesse huffs out a laugh.

“Yeah, fuck.”

“God, why didn’t he _tell_ me this shit, man? How the fuck was I supposed to know? He never fucking — this is so stupid.” 

“Tell me about it. Anyway, I’m going to pretend like this conversation never happened and go kill some shit on COD. There’s only so much emotional crap I can handle. But I — last summer, I was wrong, kind of. I still think this has the potential to go completely fucking wrong, but you guys are solid. Work through this shit, alright?”

Jesse hangs up and Tyler stares at up the ceiling, contemplating his next move. He doesn’t realise he’s calling Cody until he hears his brother pick up, sounding irritated.

“Ty, I’m kind of busy right n—” he starts, but Tyler just kind of — well, he kind of loses it.

“I’m think I’m starting to fall in love with Segs,” he blurts out, cutting his brother off. Cody pauses and Tyler can hear him excusing himself, before a door shuts.

“Ty, I— why are you telling me this shit? Shouldn’t you be telling _him?_ ” he asks, and Tyler groans.

“Yeah, I know. I’m just... testing it out, or whatever. I need to actually be in love first before I spring that shit on him.”

“Dude, have you been watching any of our games lately? At all?” Cody asks, and Tyler coughs. His parents watch every game religiously because of Cody, but he’s usually out or bumming around on his computer or watching anything else. He hasn’t watched much hockey at all since he quit, if he really thinks about it. He figures being honest is the best thing he can do right now.

“No,” he says and Cody swears.

“Segs is... he’s getting drunk heaps, he even missed a training session because he was that hungover. We had to say he got a stomach bug. Blacker’s here — him and Freddy have been arguing for the past few days about whether to like, call you and tell you to come back. John was here for a bit too, but uh... Segs kicked him out.”

“What the fuck, _why?!_ ”

“Because he tried to call you. Segs said if anyone even tells you that he’s having trouble dealing, they’re cut off. He’s getting better though; he even cracked a smile the other day, but uh. It’s not so good.”

“Where are you now?” Tyler asks, and he’s packing his suitcase. Leaving Boston was such a stupid fucking idea; as much as he loves it here, Wasaga’s too small for him now. 

“At the house. We don’t have a game for three days. Bro, don’t—” Cody starts, but Tyler cuts him off.

“Fuck off, Cody. You should’ve told me he was having problems, fuck — he should’ve stopped shutting me out and told me this shit! Don’t tell him I’m coming, but... man. This was a good idea, and I’m glad I came home, but... I belong there now.”

Cody lets out a relieved sigh and promises not to tell, and Tyler finishes packing his shit and lugs it downstairs. His mom is standing at the bottom, wiping her hands.

“Cody finally break down and tell you?” she asks, and Tyler’s jaw drops.

“You knew Segs was—” he starts, but she shrugs and kisses his cheeks, hugging him close.

“I love you, baby... but you’re such an idiot sometimes.”

 

It’s well after midnight when he hits Boston. He hauls Bud out with one arm and grabs the nearest suitcase with the other, locking his car and heading inside. Bud goes nuts the second he sees Marshall, and Tyler can see everyone sitting on the couch playing NHL 13. 

Segs looks over his shoulder and his jaw drops.

“Brownie?” he exclaims, and Tyler smiles.

“Yeah, dumbass. You finally gonna start talking to me again?” Tyler asks, and grins as Segs vaults over the sofa and comes almost running at him, collecting him up and sending them both to the ground.

“I don’t even care if they called you, I fucking missed you so much — it was so lame without you,” he gasps out between hugs, not even giving him a chance to respond before kissing him, deep and filthy. Someone takes a photo, and Tyler dazedly registers it, too busy palming the back of Segs’ head and squeezing his ass.

“You should’ve fucking _talked_ to me!” Tyler says, as Segs pulls back and makes a face.

“I know — I just thought it’d be easier if we weren’t talking as much... and it just made it worse, but I didn’t wanna spoil your holiday. You were so excited...” he trails off, and Tyler rolls his eyes and wriggles underneath Segs. 

“Your feelings are more important to me, asshole. You need to be telling me this shit. We’re two dumb guys in a relationship, okay? We need all the help we can get,” Tyler says, and his brother laughs from somewhere near the couch. 

Segs looks contrite, and Tyler pulls him down for another kiss.

“Fucking go make out in your room, douchebags! I don’t wanna be hearing slurping while I’m trying to score a goal,” Jesse yells, and Segs _giggles_ into Tyler’s neck but stands up, pulling him along to their room. They get inside and Tyler shoves him against the door, kissing him hungrily.

“Fucking missed you so much,” he moans, tugging off his shirt and pulling fruitlessly at Tyler’s belt. Tyler huffs out a laugh and holds his hands for a second, tangling their fingers together.

“I missed you too... I, uh. I realised something while I was away,” he says and Segs looks up at him, biting his lip a little. Tyler leans in and kisses him once, kind of sweet and a little too eager, and pulls back when Segs chases him for it.

“Yeah?” he asks, and Tyler swallows. This is — this is _huge_ , for both of them, what he’s about to do, and he just wants to make sure that it’s right. That they’re both ready for it.

“I realised that you’re... you’re it for me, too. Y’know? I don’t want— I don’t need anyone but you. And that’s kind of freaking me out, even though I’m pretty sure I was into you way before you were into me, but that’s okay, y’know? I’m older and whatever. And yet I’m the one kind of fucking this all up, and I’m sorry that you — that you ever felt like I wasn’t as committed to us, or that... that I didn’t... that I didn’t care about you enough. That I didn’t _like_ you enough.” Tyler’s heart is racing and he feels like he’s going to be sick, and Segs’ eyes are wide and his jaw is kind of lax. He hopes Segs gets what he’s trying to say — how he’s trying to say it.

“Fuck, say something... Ty,” he almost begs a few beats later, and Segs just shakes his head and kisses him, so fucking passionate and ridiculous with it. 

“I like you too, Brownie. Fuck, you have no idea how much.”

“I think I’ve got a good idea,” he laughs.

 

*

 

Tyler’s boredom issues still aren’t fixed, even though he and Segs are solid again and his brother’s stopped calling him names every time he walks into his field of vision. They leave on another roadie for two games, and Tyler offers to drive them to the rink. 

“Hurry up Segs, we’re gonna be late!” Tyler yells as he walks down the corridor, tucking the car keys into his pocket and looking for his phone. Cody’s already waiting with his duffle by the front door, thumbing through his own phone. He’s become a Twitter addict since he joined the team, and Tyler’s warily waiting for ink to appear on him — between Ference and Segs, he’s surprised he hasn’t already gotten one.

“You need to have a kid, man. You won’t be bored that way,” Cody sniggers when Tyler tells him about The OC marathon he’s planning on having while they’re away.

“What?” Segs asks, appearing behind Tyler.

“I was just saying to Ty, you need to knock him up so he can finish his transition into housewife.”

“ _18 years, 18 years, she got one of yo’ kids, got you for 18 years..._ ” Segs raps, pressing a kiss against Tyler’s jaw and ducking away when Tyler tries to punch him. 

“Fuck off,” Tyler says hotly, cheeks flushing. He’s always wanted kids, a big family like his own, and if this thing with Segs — well. He’s not exactly sure what Segs wants.

“I think you’d be the hottest bitch around if you were pregnant — just saying,” Segs says as Tyler’s reversing out their garage, trying not to get t-boned by a grandma in a Prius. 

“Whatever,” Tyler mutters and drives them to the rink. Cody smacks him on the arm and clambers out, as Segs is sighing. He puts his hand on Tyler’s thigh, high in the crease and squeezes.

“Sorry I’m—” he starts and Tyler shrugs.

“Don’t worry about it. I need to learn how to have time off, y’know? Like... it’s just gonna take time. I need to be patient,” he says, smiling and Segs nods. 

“I miss you a lot when we’re away, if it makes it any better,” he says and leans in to hug him. 

“Me too,” Tyler says and watches Segs go. 

 

*

 

He manages to fill his time when he joins the super gym around the corner, and contemplates joining a pick-up team after seeing a flyer advertising needing some wingers. He feels like it’s something he needs to discuss with Segs, for some stupid fucking reason, so he files it away for the next time they’re back for more than a day. 

 

John and Livy roll into Boston for a couple of days at the end of November, and he doesn’t realise how starved of personal interaction he’s been until John starts talking about his stock portfolio and Tyler’s actually _interested and actively engaging_.

“Jesus, I need to get out more.” Tyler blurts out halfway through, and Livy starts laughing.

“I was gonna say, man, since when did you give a fuck about stocks?”

Tyler groans and drops his head against the table, staring at his steak. They’re out for dinner, planning on hitting up some clubs after or whatever, and Tyler honestly can’t be fucked — he’d rather go home and sleep, but he’s 24 and needs to like, be _social_. So, clubbing.

“Since I became Segs’ hausfrau.”

Livy hoots, but John rolls his eyes and pets Tyler’s shoulder.

“I think it’s inspired, y’know. You quit hockey, made some mature decisions about your life... got your shit together with university. It’s good.” 

Tyler flushes and pokes at his steak, feeling his cheeks burn. He’s pretty sure John knows him and Segs are a _thing,_ but Livy definitely doesn’t, and for now he wants to keep it that way.

“Thanks,” he mumbles and shoves some steak into his mouth when Livy starts talking about his girlfriend.

 

“Out clubbing with my friends? Dude, you got papped,” Segs greets him at stupid o’clock the next morning. Tyler’s mostly still passed out in bed, his hangover legendary and wracking pain and misery across his whole body. It’s been far too long since he got _that_ wasted — the summer, at least, and he’s wondering how he ever managed it. Maybe he’s getting responsible (see: a fucking wimp) in his old age.

“Huh?” 

Segs laughs too loud.

“Fuck... be quiet,” he begs.

“Oh man, you are so hungover. This is _hilarious_. But seriously, there’s pictures on Twitter of you in the club, coming out the club... all camera phone stuff, but you’re moving up in the world!” 

Tyler moans.

“When are you coming home?” he manages to ask.

“Got the game tonight, flying in tomorrow.”

“I miss hockey,” he says, after a beat or two. He’s exhausted, hungover and miserable and he — it’s hard. Segs inhales sharply.

“Are you...” he starts, and Tyler shrugs.

“I dunno, man. I mean... I know I made the right choice. It’s just hard. Like, weaning yourself off a drug, y’know? It’s gonna take a long time for me _not_ to care about hockey anymore. I can’t even watch games right now, ‘cos I feel so shitty about not playing.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Segs says, somewhat helplessly. Tyler rubs his face.

“Nothing you can say, man. I just... I wanted you to know what’s going on in my head, y’know? Like, no regrets... I just miss it.”

“I’m glad you’re sharing,” Segs says, and Tyler smiles. 

“Now fuck off, so I can go pass out and avoid this hangover.”

 

*

 

Tyler’s well into season three of _The OC_ , Bud and Marshall both lying on top of him with a half-eaten pizza by his feet and several beers shoved down the side of the couch, when Segs and Cody come crashing and banging through the front door. Marshall’s tail starts wagging, but all he does is move his snout on Tyler’s thigh. Bud _woofs_ out a greeting but doesn’t move, either.

“What a fucking welcome home...” Segs announces from somewhere behind Tyler, who grunts and holds a beer up. Segs grabs at it and cups his hands under Tyler’s chin, tilting his face up enough to kiss him. Tyler can’t tear his eyes away from the screen though — Seth has some serious shit to explain to Summer — even as he hums against Segs’ mouth in greeting. 

“The romance is dead and you’ve only been together a few months,” Cody sniggers, grabbing a beer from Tyler’s stash and collapsing on the other side of the sectional. 

“Romance is for pussies,” Tyler says and Segs climbs over the back of the couch, crawling on Tyler to lay over his lap. 

“Totally isn’t,” Segs says, wriggling his eyebrows and trying to drink from his beer. 

“ _Totally isn’t_ gonna work.”

Segs gives up and pulls himself into a seated position, effectively blocking most of Tyler’s view of the screen. He sighs and glares at Segs, who’s picking at the beer bottle.

“How was the trip?” he asks, playing the role of dutiful partner. Segs shrugs.

“We lost, whatever. Got all of next week off, and we don’t play again until the 23rd.”

Tyler grins. “Cool. I’m coming to yours for pre-Christmas, yeah?” he asks, and Segs blinks before breaking out into a ridiculous smile and nodding.

“Yeah, that’d be cool.”

“I’ll probably stay in Ontario until like... the 28th or something? Come back to Boston for New Years or whatever.”

Segs nods again, blushing just a little before wriggling back down so his head rests against Tyler’s collarbones. His hand comes up to stroke through the fuzz from Segs’ tri-annual head shave, slowly growing back into the reckless curls that he tries to banish with gel. It never works and he always ends up looking like a douche, but Tyler still feels stupidly fond of it.

 

*

 

Cody tags along with them for the flight to Toronto, before peeling away to get the Greyhound to Wasaga. “Seriously man, just come to Brampton and we’ll fucking _drive_ you,” Segs says as they head to the pick-up bay. His mom is coming to get them, and dropping off Cody at the bus depot.

“No offense, but I live with you assholes and I just had to spend two hours on a plane watching you feeling each other up whenever the hostesses weren’t looking. It’s business class — have some dignity!” Cody exclaims, and Tyler flushes and punches his arm.

“Fuck you,” he mumbles and then Jackie comes running up to them, crying. Tyler sidesteps her neatly and shoves her at Segs, who glares at him but hugs his mother back way too tight.

 

Tyler bids goodbye to his brother with a hug and a gruff “Tell Mom I’ll call tonight,” as he slides out the back seat. Cody salutes them and thanks Segs’ mom, _again_ , and they start the drive to Brampton.

 

*

 

Two days after they arrive, Freddy Skypes him. Segs is lying on his bed, moaning loudly about how much food his mom is cooking and how badly they’re gonna need to hit the gym tomorrow (“How badly you need to hit the gym, I don’t have to train anymore!”) and Tyler leans over him to accept the call. He’s just finished his shower and is shirtless, with a toothbrush stuck in the corner of his mouth.

“Brownie?” Freddy asks, freezing and fritzing on the frame for a second.

“Yeah, bro, it’s me and Segs. What’s up?” he asks, and Freddy rolls his eyes.

“Put a fuckin’ shirt on,” he grumbles and Segs laughs.

“Man, uh... there’s a letter here, from Boston University. It looks pretty thick.”

Tyler’s jaw drops and his toothbrush falls out onto Segs’ bare midsection, but they’re staring at each other.

“Fuck, your acceptance letter.”

“Or rejection, my essay was so shit—”

“Shut up, Brownie. Dude, fucking open it!”

“Brownie?” 

“Yeah, go on.” He sits down heavily next to Segs, who blindly fumbles for his hand. They watch as Freddy rips into the letter and opens it, holding it close to his face.

“ _‘Dear Mr. Brown... it is with our great pleasure that we inform you that you have been successful in applying to Boston University, and have been accepted into the EdM program in Physical Education.’_ Fuck, congratulations!”

“You did it!” Segs exclaims, and Tyler smiles. His face feels kind of numb.

“Freddy, can you like... express post it up here?” he asks, and Freddy promises to and says goodnight, shutting off the conversation.

“Dude, I’m so proud of you! I told you that you could do it!” Segs says, tackling Tyler back onto the bed, laughing. 

“Yeah, I just... fuck, wow. I’m going back to school.”

Segs leans in and kisses him. His face is shining with pride when he pulls back, and Tyler squirms underneath him. This feels so... he can barely hold on most days, in the face of what they’re becoming, and it’s a whole new level being added to them. 

“I really am proud of you. You’re a smart guy, you can do this.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s just...” he trails off, and Segs pulls himself up a little so he can properly look at Tyler.

“What?”

Tyler shrugs, tangling his fingers in the bottom of Segs’ sleep shirt. It’s an old Plymouth one, the whale almost completely faded. 

“This means hockey’s really over for me, doesn’t it?” he whispers, and Segs’ face does something terrible.

“Oh, Ty...” he breathes out and Tyler groans and tries to hide his face with a pillow. He was never this open with Julie — one of the issues she’d brought up when she was leaving him, of course. It goes against his normal reactions, but he knows this isn’t — what he has with Segs, it isn’t normal. It’s _better_.

“I know, I just... it’s so stupid.” Tyler says as Segs pulls the pillow away.

“It’s just gonna take some time, okay? Like you said at the start to me — just like, take it one day at a time,” Segs says, and Tyler nods, clinging at his shirt. 

“I’m not — don’t say anything to anyone until the letter gets here, yeah? I want to... I want to think about stuff first.”

Segs looks like he’s going to argue, but stops and nods.

“Whatever you want, bud.”

 

~

 

The letter arrives the next afternoon, shoved in an express envelope and a little crumpled on the left side. The BU logo shines at him in red, his name written in neat typeset across the front. It’s thick — filled with course prospectuses and profiles and needing duplicate copies of everything and directions about how to register in spring classes.

Segs is still out with his family buying the tree, and Tyler’s been given the task of making sure the pie doesn’t burn.

“Ma, you do realise that Ty can’t cook, yeah?” Segs had said when they were rugging up to go outside, laughing and ducking a punch from Tyler. He totally can cook — he just chooses not to. There’s a huge difference.

 

He’s still in the kitchen, staring at the prospectuses and wondering what the hell he’s gotten himself into, when Candace walks into the kitchen.

He jumps a little — had thought he was there alone, and she smiles and spots all the paperwork.

“Oh my God, you got in?!” she exclaims, and Tyler starts to protest when she leaps on him and starts kissing his face and squeezing him tight.

“Candace, Jesus— _ow!_ I don’t know if I’m...” he gets out, before she pulls back and glares at him.

“Tyler George Brown, don’t you dare finish that sentence!”

Tyler’s mouth snaps shut.

“You have been given an opportunity to like... start a new life, asshole! You got a place in a prestigious university, and you’re going to study your fucking ass off and be the best— whatever. Architect or teacher or whatever the hell you’re in there for. Don’t even try and wriggle your way out of it! God, now I know why Ty was acting like you’d proposed or something, jeez.”

Tyler’s heart leaps into his throat when Candace pulls away saying those words, and manages to force a laugh. Them, _married?_ Hell no. 

But she’s got a point, and he thanks her and tries to ignore the fact he’s taking life advice from someone basically half his age. Almost.

 

By the time Segs and his family get back, he’s filled out most of the paperwork and is on the phone with his mom, telling her the news. He hangs up when they file inside and Jackie spots the acceptance letter, falling on it like someone dying of thirst in the desert.

“TYLER!” she shrieks, and both of them wince.

So, of course, it becomes a celebration dinner and champagne appears from somewhere, and they’re all demanding he design their new houses once he finishes his degree. Tyler’s on his third glass and for some reason off his face _already_ , and he can only feel Segs’ thigh pressed against his. It’s kind of magic.

 

*

 

Pre-Christmas comes and goes mostly without incident. He says mostly, but it was pretty much their first major relationship fight, and happened under a roof full of Seguins. 

It’s over money, and Tyler senses this is going to be a recurring issue in the future, which is exhausting. He understands that he’s not in a financially viable position anymore, but he’s still got funds and Tyler constantly buying things is starting to grate on him. 

They’d gone out shopping for Christmas presents, and Segs refused to let Tyler pay for anything. He’d managed to get access to some of his money that’d been stashed away, and wanted to thank the family for their hospitality — for Jackie bending over backwards to make him feel accepted and loved, especially. Segs, of course, had just shoved him aside and said they were sending Jackie and Jeff to St. Tropez for five nights after New Years.

“I didn’t even—” Tyler had tried to start, but Segs waved a hand.

“It’s already taken care of, just sign the card.”

“Segs, fucking— I’m not just, you can’t just steamroll me like this! I need to give you money to go towards this! You’re already paying for school—”

“It was part of our deal. Why are you acting like such a girl?” Segs snorted, and Tyler saw red. He doesn’t really remember what he screamed at Segs, but it ended in him storming off and walking around Brampton in the ridiculous cold, fuming, until Candace pulled up beside him and demanded he get in the car.

“Fucking— your brother is being such a massive asshole!” he raged, and Candace nodded.

“We all heard, believe me. Ty got chewed out like a motherfucker by four angry ladies and his sisters. Even Jeff called him an asshole and Jeff like, never swears.” Candace looked awed by the fact Tyler managed to get a reaction out of the mostly unflappable Jeff, and he felt embarrassed.

“God, this is a nightmare.” Tyler groaned, and Candace shrugged.

“You’re having adult fights about adult things, whatever. Ty’s a moron, he just needs to be told why he’s a moron and how not to be so stupid.”

On Segs’ part, he apologised when they got back to the house, and Tyler was frosty to him for the rest of the night, but Segs made up for it with a truly world shattering blowjob, and Tyler felt bad enough to help him out while Segs rubbed one out against his hip. 

When they woke up the next morning — well, Tyler woke up to Segs running his fingers through Tyler’s horrific bedhead, looking reverent.

“I just wanted to make sure you never had to worry about anything, man. I didn’t mean that— it wasn’t supposed to make you feel like you were worth less than me.” Segs whispered against his jawbone, and Tyler sighed into the bed, warm and content.

“I know, and I’m grateful. I’ll be grateful to you until I die, Seggy. You just can’t act like an asshole about the money shit. If I want to contribute, you have to let me.”

After that, things settle down and Tyler is able to enjoy the rest of his time in Brampton, splitting it between hilarious family and good food, and Segs sinking deep into his skin, settling in a way he hasn’t before. It’s kind of scary, but Tyler’s learning to take anything Segs-related with calm breathing and a ‘do not freak out in public about this’ mentality that’s served him well so far.

 

~

 

Then they’re saying goodbye as Tyler and Segs clamber into Jackie’s car to drive him to Wasaga. They swap — Cody is getting picked up when Tyler gets dropped off, and Michelle’s coming the day after for their Christmas break. It’s gonna be sad without Cody, but he figures his family have done it for most of his life without one or two of their kids, and it’s no different than the lonely Christmases he’s had with the boys in the past.

“No more of that bullshit last time, eh?” Tyler says as they get into Wasaga, and Segs rolls his eyes.

“I promise not to lose my shit this time, yeah.”

He hasn’t been clingy, and they made the decision not to have sex last night — just cuddled instead. If anything, Tyler feels like that made it worse but whatever. Segs seems to be dealing with it, so he can too.

 

*

 

Spending Christmas with his family is different — he’s so used to being in the thick of the season at that point, that waking up on Christmas Day to the smell of turkey and his sister singing in the kitchen downstairs has him turned around. It takes a few beats for him to figure out where he is.

“H’lo?” he rasps when his phone starts to buzz on his bedside table, fumbling out for it.

“Wake up, fatass. It’s like, 11 in Ontario!” Segs’ voice floats down the line, and Tyler groans and buries his face under his pillow.

“Don’t wanna,” he mumbles and Segs chuckles.

“Merry Christmas, Ty.” 

“Where’s my present?” he asks, and Segs laughs.

“Got your priorities in order, eh?” 

He does, of course. He’d managed to snag a half-hour out shopping with Jackie, all but begging her to help him pick Segs something. Before it’d been like, a six pack and a few rounds at the club but this is — this is their first Christmas together, and he kind of wanted to be awesome. 

“Of course. Gotta keep me happy, or I’ll dump you for an oil tycoon.” 

Segs snorts. “It’s all lined up with your mom, sitting all wrapped nice and shit under your Christmas tree right now. Where’s my present?”

“Lined up with Freddy, dude. Sitting under your tree.”

 

He gets out of bed and pulls on a hoodie and an old pair of uggs he finds under his bed, padding downstairs and greeting his parents. He hands his phone to his mom while he bends under the tree, looking for a shittily wrapped package with Segs’ familiar scrawl over it. It takes him a little while, entirely because what ends up being from Segs is a small, square box, neatly wrapped in silver paper with a green bow tied around it. There’s a card to go with it, and Tyler frowns.

“He’s just found the present, dear. I think he was expecting something a little less... well put-together,” his mother laughs behind him, and Tyler rolls his eyes. He’s on his knees by the tree, and manages to get the bow off without cutting his fingers on the ribbon, unwrapping it and cracking open the plain black box. 

Inside, sitting on a bed of tissues, is a set of keys. 

“Keys?” he asks. “I’ve already got keys to the apartment,” he says and his mother laughs and hands him the phone. 

“Keys?” he asks again, and Segs snorts.

“Go outside, dumbass.”

Tyler gets up and his sister has her phone up, recording him. 

“I look like shit, stop it,” he says, batting at her and heading to the front door. He pulls on one of the caps from the hat rack and steps into the weak December sunlight, taking in the crisp smell of the snow and the stillness of their neighbourhood. His eyes roam until they get to the driveway, and sitting there is a Benz truck, sleek and black and _perfect_. There’s a huge red ribbon wrapped around it, and Tyler lets out a sound he’s completely embarrassed about later.

“Holy shit!” he exclaims, bounding through the snow, his pants and uggs getting soaked in seconds, pressing his face up against the glass. The interior is custom — rich black leather seats with what looks like ‘TGB’ sewn into the headrests and wooden trimmings. He pulls his phone back to hear Segs laughing.

“You asshole, why did you buy me a car?! I’ve got my truck!” he exclaims.

“Cody can have it. It’s a ‘congrats your dumb ass tricked Boston University into accepting you’ present.”

“Segs, man... this is too much. It’s a fucking _Benz_. How the hell am I ever gonna—” he starts, getting cut off.

“Don’t even start on the money bullshit _again_. I got it, and I want you to enjoy it. Drive it back from Wasaga because it was a bitch and a half getting it delivered there, okay?”

Tyler’s present of VIP tickets to the next Sox game and a couple new t-shirts feels a little underwhelming in the face of a fucking car, but whatever. He has to accept that he’ll never be as rich as Segs and to get comfortable with the opulent gifts.

“And I love my presents from you. You got me sensible gifts and a party gift,” Segs snickers and Tyler rolls his eyes. Segs is always giving him shit about the fact he’s older and supposedly more ‘sensible’. 

“Whatever, asshole. I’m gonna go take this baby for a joyride.” he says, pressing his phone between his shoulder and cheek and digging around in his jacket pockets for the keys. 

“Of course. Skype me later.” Segs says suggestively, and Tyler blushes so hard he can barely stand. His sister is still filming but she doesn’t know — none of his family officially do, although he’s pretty sure his mother knew Segs liked him before Tyler even did. 

“Bye,” he mumbles and hangs up on Segs laughing.

“God, Tyler buys you _cars_ now?” Michelle exclaims, stopping filming and putting her phone in her pocket. He bites his lip and pulls her close, hugging her to him.

“Ty, what’s wrong?” she asks, a little alarmed, and he squeezes his eyes shut, his heart pounding in his chest for the second time that morning. 

“He’s... we’re...” he’s at a loss, and Michelle sighs and sags in his arms, her hands resting in the small of his back.

“You two finally get your shit together, then?” she asks softly, and he chokes out a laugh and nods, his cheek pressed against her head. She hugs him tight, so tight it hurts, and pulls back with her eyes shining. 

“You moron. C’mon, get dressed and take me for a spin!” she says, pulling back and running for the door, where his parents are standing. He follows her, hanging back a little, and his mom hugs him to her, his father rubbing his back.

“Tyler makes you happy, doesn’t he?” his father asks, and Tyler nods against his mother’s chest, feeling like he’s 10 again and nothing can touch him, as long as he’s in her arms. His feet and shins are soaked, and his uggs are definitely going to have to be thrown out after this, and it wasn’t the picture he’d have in his head a year ago — what he’d be doing, Christmas of 2013. 

“Then that’s all that matters, son. That’s all that matters.”

Tyler rubs at his face a little, just a quick swipe while he looks out at his car, snowflakes falling gently against the black paint. Best Christmas _ever_.

 

*

 

Tyler keeps finding new things inside the car, right up until he’s packing his bags into the back and hugging his family goodbye. There’s seat warming and keyless entry, TVs in the back of the seats and a trailer hitch for when they go to the shore and rent boats. There’s so much room as well, both in the drivers seat and right to the back of the cabin, in the third row. 

The drive itself is long — he’s taken it before, but makes good time without having to stop to let Bud out all the damn time. It’s dark when he gets into Boston, pulling into the garage and heading inside. Jesse answers the door and laughs, hugging him and hauling him inside, and Bud comes tearing at him, so he gets down on his knees and tussles with him until he hears Segs yelling out to Jesse, asking who was at the door.

“Your husband!” Jesse yells back, and Tyler rolls his eyes and sits up on his knees, Bud licking at his face. He winces and Segs comes running down the stairs, taking them two at a time. Tyler doesn’t fail to notice he’s in one of Tyler’s old Adirondack shirts, and a pair of sweatpants and thick socks — but he gets stuck on the shirt. 

“Hey, you’re back!” Segs says, slightly breathless. Jesse rolls his eyes and thumps back upstairs, and Tyler grins and hauls himself upright, walking closer. Segs’ eyes are bright and he takes a few steps back, pushing himself into the corner by the door. Tyler bites his lip and puts his hands on either side of Segs’ head, noting how his chest starts heaving. 

“Yeah, I‘m back... miss me?” he rumbles, leaning in to nose at Segs’ neck, feeing him shiver against him.

“Of course,” Segs gets out, his fingers tangling in Tyler’s shirt.

“I can see. Did you play for Adirondack and didn’t tell me?” he jokes lightly, pressing kisses along Segs’ jugular and jaw line. Segs moans.

“I had... your shirts, wore them a bit. Sorry,” he says, belatedly, and Tyler pulls back.

“It’s funny... I was worried about turning into one of _those_ people, and here you are, beating me to it. I don’t mind, I guess. I think it’s cute,” he says, and Segs snorts and flushes, and Tyler leans in to kiss the embarrassment away. 

“I think you’re cute,” Segs says against his mouth, chuckling when Tyler digs his nails into Segs’ biceps, before smoothing his palms along his back. 

Segs drags Tyler into their room, but it’s not like usual — Segs wants to take his time teasing Tyler into a frenzy with long, wet strokes along his dick that never seem to go anywhere, rubbing them together when Segs straddles him and matches his kisses to their rhythm. Tyler can’t help moaning and gasping out for Segs, not like this and Segs knows it; chuckles against his mouth until they’re both finally naked and he’s still on top, but Tyler has two fingers inside him and swallows down every moan that Segs let’s go of.

When they come, Tyler’s buried deep inside Segs, and he almost cries from the force of it, the movement and the slide between them like fucking poetry or something. It’s definitely ranking in their top five fucks, and he’ll probably end up having a heart attack if every time they bang after is exactly like this. His heart is beating too fast, he feels too sated and emptied of everything inside, Segs curling up next to him and chuckling. 

“Fucking hell,” is all Tyler can manage, making Segs laugh harder between kisses. Fucking hell indeed. 

 

~

 

Jesse, Freddy, Cody and Segs all insist on him taking them for a joyride around Boston in his new car. Segs gets shotgun, because he loudly insists its his money that went into the car, and Tyler feels crushing guilt for a second or two before Segs checks him into the side of the car and swoops in, all languid from the orgasms, and kisses him. 

“You’ve got your constipated face on, stop.”

 

*

 

Things settle and January rolls around, and his anxiety starts to ramp up again when he downloads his book list and stares at the academic calendar. The semester itself isn’t massive, and he’s taking four classes — all required, nothing exciting. If he ends up tagging along as part of Segs’ posse to Sochi, it’s going to be near impossible to get anything done. He just hopes he can work out some way to balance what he needs to finish and not like, fail everything ever. 

 

The Bruins are in the middle of an eight game home stretch, which is both amazing and weird. Tyler’s finally started getting used to being alone, and having both his brother and Segs around constantly is just another thing he needs to get used to. 

“Whatcha lookin’ at?” Segs asks as he drifts past the table, running his fingers through Tyler’s hair and heading into the kitchen.

“Just downloaded my book list and stuff,” Tyler says and Segs grins.

“Does this mean we get to go stationery shopping?”

Segs is way too fucking excited about the prospect of buying pens and a backpack. “You’re kind of pathetic,” Tyler says blandly, turning back to his list and pulling up the university bookstore. He winces at the prices. 

“Jesus, these books are mad expensive... no wonder students are so fucking poor,” he sighs, and Segs drapes an arm over Tyler’s shoulder, peering at the screen.

“Well, you’re gonna have the best of the best. So make the list and we can go get all your stuff this afternoon. I don’t have to be back at the rink until tomorrow evening. We got the day off,” Segs says, biting at his ear and ducking away from Tyler’s punch. 

 

It’s much of the same when they go to the campus and wander through to the bookstore. It’s kind of empty, which isn’t what Tyler’s expecting, and even Cody seems surprised.

“Everyone’s probably expecting it to be packed as well, so they’re not bothering,” he shrugs as they walk inside. Between the three of them, they get all of Tyler’s required readings and Segs picks up a yoga book, claiming to be bored of the usual and wanting new positions to try out, and Cody sniggers all the way to the counter. Tyler dumps the three textbooks he’s got, and Segs whips out his credit card, smiling sunnily at the cashier — who _recognises him_. 

“What— I mean, uh. You’re Tyler Seguin.” 

Segs nods.

“Yep, and you’ve got my credit card.”

The guy fumbles his way through swiping and asking for his pin number, gaping the entire time. Tyler shifts uncomfortably next to him, waiting for the kid to snap out of his daze and realize what he’s doing. Fortunately for him, Segs signs his hat while he packs Tyler’s books away, and they hustle out of there before anyone else can recognise him.

“Looks like I won’t be crashing any classes with you, bro.” Segs grins as they walk back to the car. Tyler rolls his eyes and tries to push down the uncomfortable feeling spreading through his gut. This is what his life is going to be like from now on — Segs paying for shit and getting noticed, and Tyler lurking in the background like a fucking freeloader. God, he needs to get a job.

 

*

 

Two nights before his semester starts, Segs comes home looking pissed as hell.

“They had to fucking reschedule some games due to the Olympics, so I have to go on another road trip — for a fucking _week_ tomorrow.”

Tyler looks up from where he’s filling out the last of some paperwork, and makes a face. Segs had said he was going to drop Tyler off — it’s juvenile, but he’s getting increasingly nervous the closer his first day gets. He’s scared they’ll smell him coming a mile off, fresh meat that has no business being in their hallowed halls. 

“Oh,” he says, and he can hear how horribly small his voice sounds. Segs looks like Tyler’s king hit him, and Tyler kind of feels like he’s been hit as well. 

“I’m so sorry, Brownie, if I could—” he starts and Tyler shakes his head and forces himself to smile.

“It’s fine, man. I’m just being stupid. Honestly,” he says, and Segs still looks upset.

“It doesn’t matter. I wanted to be there for you on your first day. I know this is a crazy scary thing—”

“And it shouldn’t be. I’m letting it control me too much. Just, honestly. It’s fine. Don’t worry about it, okay? I’ll text you updates all day, I’ll probably meet someone much hotter and forget all about you,” he jokes and Segs glares. 

“Fuck you, no, you won’t!”

 

*

 

It doesn’t hurt any less saying goodbye to Segs and his brother the next morning, standing in the hallway in tracksuit pants and one of Segs’ hoodies. It smells like him, his body wash and his aftershave and _him_ , and Tyler knows he’ll probably roll into university tomorrow wearing it. Freddy won’t say anything, so he figures his secret is relatively safe. 

“Call me all day, okay? I’ll pick up.” Segs says as he hugs Tyler tight, and Tyler rolls his eyes but nods.

“Yeah, yeah. Now go, you’re gonna be late!” he says, shoving Segs towards the door. He sends one last baleful look and follows Cody out, the door snicking shut behind them.

Freddy wanders over and slings an arm around him.

“Man, you are seriously gonna have the greatest time. So many cool people go to university, and you can finally have friends outside this stupid sport,” Freddy says, and Tyler nods. He knows he’s right, but it’s still daunting as fuck.

 

He doesn’t sleep at all that night, tossing and turning and missing Segs like a limb, wanting desperately to call him and fighting against it with everything he’s got. He’s a fucking adult, goddamnit, he can do this.

By the time his alarm goes off, he’s exhausted and contemplating just giving up, dropping out and spending all his days on the fucking couch. He doesn’t need a career or further education — this was a stupid fucking idea.

However, Freddy bounds into the bedroom and drags him out of bed, shoving him into the shower and coaching him through it with a mix of ridiculously positive and borderline sadistic motivation. He makes him breakfast and chats with him, chirping and joking around, and Tyler makes his way to the carpark feeling a little lighter — still like he’s consumed with nerves and will probably puke when the first person asks him a question, but he feels less heavy, somehow.

 

The ride to campus is slow, and he’s already organised student parking so he pulls into his spot and almost scratches another car shutting his door. Not exactly the most amazing start to his day.

He heads onto the main campus, ducking and weaving around scores of people and squinting at his map. He’s so turned around, hopelessly lost and about to pull out his phone to try and use his Maps app to help locate him when he smashes into someone, stumbling backwards.

“Jesus, I’m so sorry!” he exclaims, pushing his hat back on his head and reaching for the person he smashed into — who just so happens to be laughing and smiling up ruefully at him.

“I’m so sorry, it’s my fault,” she says, and Tyler shakes his head.

“I’m just really fuck— I mean, uh. I’m really lost, sorry.”

“Me too. What building are you looking for?”

He tells her and she grins, flicking him the thumbs up.

“Me too! We can be lost together. I’m Sarah,” she says, offering a hand. He smiles and takes it.

“I’m Tyler.”

 

On their way to the building, managing to locate it between the two of them, he discovers she’s in the same course as him — and also a first year, starting this semester. 

“So, how come you’re so late into university?” she asks, and he flushes.

“I uh, I played hockey... I retired last year,” he says, and she rolls her eyes.  
“I should’ve guessed, Canadian. My brothers are huge hockey fans. I’m originally from Minnesota, though they’re all Rangers fans.”

“That’s cool,” he says, and they enter the building and start on the stairs toward their first classroom.

“What team did you play for?” she asks, and he coughs and avoids an elbow to the face when some kid decides to start forcing his way through the press of people.

“Uh, I was drafted by the Flyers... Philadelphia? But I only got called up a couple of times in three years. Spent most of my time on their farm team in New York state. Before that I played for Plymouth, in the OHL.”

She nods along but it’s obvious she has no idea what he’s talking about, so they switch to discussing the latest movie blockbusters while they get to their classroom. As they arrive, she gasps and starts madly waving at a group near the doorway.

“Oh, there’s my cousin! Andy!” she yells, and a tallish guy with a snapback and a Bruins hoodie waves at them.

“Andy, this is Tyler — I just met him. We ran into each other, literally,” she giggles, and Andy rolls his eyes.

“Did she take you out, bro?” he asks, and Tyler snorts.

“Yeah man, I think I need to go to the hospital. Some bruised ribs for sure. Do you guys get free health insurance here?” he fires back, and they all collapse into laughter. 

 

By the time his third class rolls around, he hasn’t even thought about texting Segs to update him on his day. Andy, Sarah and the rest of their friends — Jessa, a redhead with an epic sleeve tattoo from somewhere in Europe, Keith and Patrick; twin brothers from Columbus who look like they fell off an A&F advertisement and Yasir, a tech head from Raleigh — have made him feel ridiculously welcome. They’re in all the same classes, and it doesn’t take long before one of them recognises him, when Andy susses out that he used to play hockey when they’re at lunch. 

They go through the lunch hall and head to one of the quads, settling down under a huge tree and digging in.

“Fuck, I knew I remembered you from somewhere!” Andy yells suddenly, when Tyler and Patrick are talking about their latest class, and Tyler almost chokes on his drink.

“What?” he asks, fear rushing through him, and Andy clicks his fingers.

“I follow Tyler Seguin on Twitter and I _remember_ you. You’re one of his buddies, aren’t you?” he asks, and the rest of them look at him.

“Uh, yeah. I’m uhm, living with him. I retired from hockey, and he asked — I mean, he had a room spare, so I just... yeah. Took it. If you can keep that on the downlow, though? I can’t like, be constantly fielding signature requests and shit,” he says, and they all nod.

“For sure, man. We don’t even know who Andy’s talking about; we follow NFL.” Patrick says, pointing at his brother, and Yasir shrugs. “I’m a Chelsea supporter — European football.” Jessa and Sarah roll their eyes, and Andy looks suitably chastened.

“I’m sorry for like, screaming that out. I was just like, trying to figure out where I’d seen you all fucking morning, it was driving me mad.”

“You could’a just asked?” Tyler offers up, and Andy looks even more embarrassed.

“Hilarious, expecting logic out of my stupid cousin,” Sarah titters, and the group starts laughing again, and the massive weight that had lodged itself in Tyler’s chest moves, freeing him to breathe again.

 

*

 

For the next month, Tyler’s life becomes utterly insane as he settles into classes and gets to know his new friends. 

A few more people join their little group — Yasir’s girlfriend Amira, who’s studying to be a doctor and proves Yasir is punching way above his belt, Josh and Carts; two of Jessa’s friends who play club hockey and spend all their time trying to convince Tyler to join them, and Asher, a girl that recognises him and spends a week trying to get up the nerve to ask for his autograph. 

“ _Who’s_ autograph do you want?!” Jessa shrieks, and Asher winces.

“Tyler’s?” she says, and thrusts a t-shirt at him. It’s a Flyers one; one from his second call up that he’d auctioned off for charity. Some businessman from Las Vegas had won it — turns out she’s his daughter. 

“So you’re from Vegas and you follow a farm team from Philly?” Andy asks, looking as confused as Tyler feels.

“Hey man, people follow the NHL from like... China,” he offers up, signing the shirt with a flourish and smiling. He’s still working on the whole smiling thing, but between Segs and his ridiculous new life, it’s becoming more a second habit than something he has to force out.

Asher starts hanging around them once she gets over her stage fright, and she turns out to be kind of hilarious and scarily smart. She even starts tutoring him for anatomy and physiology class; one he’s failing miserably at. Apparently his knowledge of the body isn’t as spectacular as he thought it’d be. 

“I just don’t understand _why_ we have to take this stupid class!” Tyler whines loudly as they leave their tutorial, clutching a paper with a fat red C- lurking near the header. 

“So they can weed out dummies like you for the smarter ones to make fun of,” Andy snorts, and Asher clicks her tongue.

“I can tutor you. Payment in booze or pizza,” she offers up, and Tyler’s so happy he almost hugs her. 

 

They go out drinking a lot; alternating between the on-campus bar and the one Sarah works at on weekends in Mission Hill — they all make fun of him mercilessly when they find out he lives in the rich part of Boston, Back Bay.

“The fuck are you at university for if you’re living in Back Bay?” Yasir asks, and Amira elbows him. 

“Rich people are allowed to be educated too,” she says, and everyone laughs. Tyler rubs the back of his head, embarrassed.

“I’m not rich, my housemates are. They all play hockey. I’m just the charity case,” he says and everyone laughs again, but Sarah and Andy exchange a look — one he’s learning means will result in them ganging up on him later.

Sure enough, when they’re staggering out the bar (much) later that night, Tyler’s not as drunk as he could be, but when he sees Sarah and Andy approaching him, terrifyingly sober, he does the only thing he knows how to and flees, hopping into the closest cab after shouting a goodbye, and sinking down low. 

They don’t try and double team him next time he sees them for class, but they keep sharing those looks whenever Tyler’s housing situation comes up. It makes him a little uneasy, but he figures he’s got enough of an ‘I don’t know you well enough to ask you about this obviously personal issue’ grace period to let it slide, and things go back to normal — well, his new normal.

 

*

 

While things with his school life are looking up, things have gotten weird again with Segs, and even his brother. Tyler has university 9-5 every day of the week, and spends most Saturdays in various study groups and being slowly chipped away at by Josh and Carts. 

“Seriously man, we YouTubed you! There wasn’t much to see or whatever, but you’re solid! We _really_ need an enforcer, and Coach is totally willing to like, let you try out next season! Well, he wants to see you play now but next season you’re totally in!” Carts says, leaning most of the length of the table. They’re trying to do their first group report for the anatomy class that’s going to continue to plague him all fucking semester. So far, Tyler’s having untold amounts of trouble writing 500 words, his cursor blinking unhappily at him.

His phone vibrates on the table and he glances at it; it’s his brother, asking what time he’s going to be home. They’ve just got back from a three-game roadie, and before that they had two days off, but Tyler had a paper to finish for another class, so he spent all his time holed up at the library with Andy and Carts. Granted, they spent most of the study session helping Carts draw up hockey plays, so it probably wasn’t the most effective waste of time.

**Tyler:**  
 **14:33**  
 _dunno, y?_

**Cody:**  
 **14:34**  
 _o i dunno, mayb becaus ive forgottn what ur face looks like??? asshole barly seen u home all week._

Tyler strains to remember the last time he’d seen either of them, and feels guilty. He can’t even remember the last time he and Segs shared anything more than a brief kiss when one or the other crawled into bed, too exhausted for anything else. He thinks Segs is probably still waiting to hear if he’s getting picked for Canada as well, and considering Sochi is coming up in mid-February, they’re leaving it pretty damn late.

In fact, he’s struggling to remember the last time they had sex. It’s been at least two weeks. He remembers giving Segs a blowjob in the showers, and his knees had ached too much for anything more than getting a handjob. God, either their relationship is dying or this is what it means to be in a committed and busy one — hardly any sex or seeing each other. So uncool.

**Tyler:**  
 **14.38**  
 _ill be home soon, 1-2hrs tops. finishing report. i’ll bring sthgn, what u guys want?_

**Cody:**  
 **14.42**  
 _segs says ur penis, but no tks. burgre king, its a cheat day! :D_

Tyler snorts at his phone and sets the alarm for two hours, and buries it in his pocket.

 

Predictably enough, they finish just as his alarm is chirping, and he shoves his laptop in his bag.

“Sorry, gotta go. Need to pick up dinner for the guys,” he says and throws a wave as he books it out. It’s dusk, and he climbs into his car and calls through, loading up on burgers and fries. He sucks down half his drink and most of his fries, starving from his day of pretty much non-stop study, and wrestles his way inside before Cody and Freddy come to save him.

“Food!” Freddy yells and hustles it off to the kitchen, as Cody helps him grab his bag while Bud and Marshall go nuts around his feet.

“I saw you yesterday, asshole, you can’t miss me that much!” Tyler laughs as Bud jumps up and tries to lick his face, falling short of Tyler’s frame. Segs appears in the doorway, a fond smile on his face. He’s in one of the t-shirts Tyler got him for Christmas, a dark thing with grey stripes, and a pair of sweatpants that Tyler recognizes are his own — given how Segs’ toes barely poke out from underneath the cuffs pooled down around his feet, and how low they hang on his hips. He bites his lips and crowds in against Segs, suddenly not hungry for whatever is in the kitchen.

“Hey,” Segs says in a rough voice, his fingers tangling in the material of Tyler’s hoodie.

“Hey yourself,” Tyler says right back, wrapping an arm around Segs’ neck, kissing him. Segs’ fingers work their way under his shirt and he moans against Tyler’s mouth as they stagger towards their bedroom, Freddy yelling at them that their food will get cold by the time they finish fucking.

“Whatever!” Segs calls over his shoulder, laughing as Tyler hoists him up and carries him to their bed, shutting the door with his feet. He still works out most days and has maintained most of his hockey form, but Segs is heavy and he’s glad there’s not much more to move across. Segs pulls his shirt off and Tyler falls on his abs, licking and sucking his way up back to Segs’ mouth, as he wraps his legs around Tyler’s waist and grinds up hard against him.

“Fucking missed you,” Segs gasps out against Tyler’s mouth, while he yanks off his hoodie and works on his belt. 

“Missed you too,” he huffs, laughing when Segs turns them over and straddles him, rubbing his cock against Tyler’s.

“Fuck me,” Segs demands and Tyler nods, fumbling for their bedside for the lube. He can’t remember the last time either of them bought condoms, and it’s — it’s nice. 

Segs is tighter than he remembers, and Tyler doesn’t even bother trying to fuck him on his back when he’s like this, just starts him on his stomach and keeps him there.

“Ready?” he asks, when he’s three fingers deep and Segs is rocking back against him.

“Fuck you... of course I am,” Segs moans out, and Tyler bites down so hard on his lip he almost breaks the skin when he pushes inside, watching himself disappear into Segs, the wet heat of him like a fucking furnace.

“Fuck,” Tyler groans, and Segs huffs out a laugh.

“Move, asshole...” he orders, and Tyler moves little by little, before hitting a rhythm and resisting the urge to come. 

Segs turns them over a little while after, so he’s on his back and Tyler’s between the bracket of his thighs, powerful and hugging along his hips. 

“You’re getting skinny,” Segs says, tracing his fingers down Tyler’s ribs, and he rolls his eyes.

“Maybe you’re just getting fatter,” he fires back and Segs snorts, kissing him, whole and claiming. 

“Come inside me?” Segs asks, and Tyler nods, fisting Segs between his fingers and jerking him fast and hard, just the way he likes. Segs comes barely a minute later, striping Tyler’s stomach and fingers, and Tyler lets go to lace his hand with Segs above his head, kissing him as he spills inside him, grinding down hard as he follows him over.

“Fucking hell,” he sobs out, collapsing, and Segs laughs and keeps his legs wrapped around Tyler.

“I missed you a lot, what can I say?” he says, and Tyler rolls his eyes and pulls out slowly, leaning to grab the Wet Wipes they keep in their drawers to clean them up.

 

He wakes up to his alarm the next morning, class starting in an hour, Segs sound asleep and cuddled up behind him. He showers and pulls on some clothes, pocketing his phone and slips out the room. He doesn’t notice Segs’ eyes flutter open and the frown marring his features as the door shuts, sending the room back into darkness. 

Freddy’s watching the news and grunts at him, and Tyler rolls his eyes and grabs a breakfast shake and pats Bud on the head, grabbing his bag off the floor and shucking on his shoes.

“See you later,” he throws out and shuts the door, heading down the stairs and to his car. He realises on his way to the campus that he forgot to kiss Segs goodbye, asleep or not, and feels kind of shitty about it for the rest of the day. 

Everyone notices but nobody says anything, and Tyler doesn’t bother elaborating.

“Trouble in paradise?” Sarah tries at one point, and Tyler contemplates laughing her off, but finds he doesn’t want to? He knows he can’t tell anyone about Segs — not now, and probably not ever — but he just... _sighs_ , and nods, and she slings an arm around him and gives him an awkward side-hug. It makes him feel a little better.

“Apologise. Even if you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m sorry always makes everything less shit,” she offers up, and Tyler laughs. She doesn’t know how on the money she is. 

He grabs a tub of Chunky Monkey and a six-pack of Moulsons, claiming loudly that he’s going to drink and eat the whole lot after a shitty day at uni, but slides down on the couch next to Segs, crowding into his space and shoves three bottles at him.

“You’re helping,” he says, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth and popping open the lid.

“Everything okay?” Segs asks, as Tyler shoves a ridiculously large spoonful of ice cream into his mouth. He moans loudly around the taste melting on his tongue and nods.

“Just a crappy day. Be a good boyfriend and help me finish this,” he says, giving Segs his spoon. He doesn’t fail to notice Segs turn pink, but he nods and takes some. 

“Anything for you, bud.”

Tyler’s stomach untwists itself, and he finds himself nodding along. 

 

*

 

The first time his sexuality comes up, they’re at a frat party and Tyler has just dominated two rounds of beer pong with Andy. He reacts kind of badly. 

He’s been in a shitty mood all night, if he’s honest, which definitely doesn’t help his mood once he starts drinking. 

Segs and Cody are home at the moment, so’s Freddy and even Jesse’s come down to Boston for a few nights, on IR after he broke his wrist. They weren’t planning on doing anything special, just ordering pizza and having a movie marathon since none of them wanted to go out, but Tyler had come home from university absolutely buzzing about his first real frat party, completely forgetting everyone was going to be home.

“Frat party, frat party, frat party!” he’d rapped as he walked through the door, dropping his shit in a pile and heading straight for a shower. When he’d come out, towelling off his hair and dressed in a pair of his favourite jeans — hanging low on his hips, a pair that never failed to get Segs raring to go — he’d almost had a heart attack when he saw everyone sitting in the living room.

“The fuck are you all doing here?!” he’d exclaimed, and they all laughed.

“We’re home for the next couple of days. Frat party?” Segs asked, and Tyler immediately cursed himself. 

“Yeah, Andy’s friend is in a frat and they’re having a party, whatever.” he said, reaching into the laundry pile and pulling on a t-shirt. It was striped and didn’t fit him right, which meant it was Segs’. Watching him bite his lip confirmed it — Segs has a weird kink about sharing clothes.

“You gonna invite us?” Jesse leered from his space on the couch, and Tyler hesitated. It must’ve shown on his face, because Cody rolled his eyes.

“Don’t be stupid all your life, Blacker. Tyler’s keeping it on the downlow that he lives with super famous people.”

Jesse looked surprised but shrugged, and Segs watched him for a beat longer, until Tyler turned away and went back to their bedroom to find a shirt that fit properly. 

While none of them gave him shit about going anyway, and Segs even — Segs was fine about it, and not in a “I’ll say I’m fine when I’m actually super pissed at you” way or anything; it’s all just Tyler, feeling guilty and stupid. 

So, when he arrives at the party and spots his friends standing around outside, solo cups firmly in hand, his shitty mood doesn’t shift. Four beers later and a particularly vicious rendition of Gangnam Style has alleviated it a little bit, but it isn’t until beer pong that he really starts to loosen up and forget his problems. 

 

“How the fuck, man?!” Andy yells in his face, and Tyler just laughs and clings onto him. They’re covered in sweat and various drinks, but he hasn’t had this much fun in months. It’s crazy, and he knows it, so he just keeps laughing while Andy drags them away from the table, victorious, and shoves him at a chair while he pumps them some beer. 

He slops half the solo cup down Tyler’s front, staining his t-shirt even more, but Tyler just slumps into the fabric and clinks their cups together. 

“So uh... you got anyone in your life?” Andy asks what seems like years later, and Tyler yawns and looks at him.

“Huh?” he asks, and Andy wriggles, looking a little bit uncomfortable. Jessa’s dancing with some guy Tyler vaguely recognised from one of their tutorials, and Yasir and Amira are making out in a super non-dark corner. Sarah and Carts disappeared after he arrived — Tyler wonders if Andy knows his cousin is banging a hockey player. He knows he’d be pretty pissed off, if it were him. Then again, he was banging a hockey player, and used to be one. Hypocritical, for sure. 

“Y’know. Like, a girlfriend or whatever. You haven’t really talked about anyone since I’ve met you,” Andy says, and Tyler’s fucking wasted, and he can still feel the discomfort start clawing at his gut as visions of Segs swim through his head, warning bells and alarms going off. He resents the fact he can’t — _fuck_.

“I... it’s complicated,” is all he says, his buzz slipping. Andy frowns but shrugs and asks if he wants to find Sarah and Carts, but Tyler’s done with the conversation, any good mood he had left gone. 

“Nah, I‘m gonna go home. See you on Monday, yeah?” he says and struggles to get to his feet. Andy looks worried, but gets distracted when Jessa peels away from the guy and launches onto Andy’s lap, yelling in his face.

Tyler makes his way back to one of the bars set up and drinks steadily for the next hour, blitzing past _fucking wasted_ and into paralytic territory. He just can’t stop it — wants to stave off the complete shittiness radiating through him. It doesn’t work, so he gives up when he starts to lose feeling in his limbs. 

He stumbles over Andy again, who tries to walk him out but gets lost on the way, and Tyler makes it off the campus and to the nearest cab rank and pours himself into the back seat. The cabbie demands the money up front, wrinkling his nose at how trashed Tyler is, but he just hands over Segs’ credit card and waits until he’s told to get out.

 

The next morning, he wakes up and vomits within three seconds of figuring out where he is, all over the side of the bed and the floorboards. Bud and Marshall start barking while he’s sick, and it isn’t until he’s emptied out whatever’s left inside him that Freddy comes to stand at the doorway and groans.

“Jesus, Tyler! How fucking drunk were you?” he sighs, and Tyler just sobs a little, using the wrecked sheets to wipe his face. He’s still mostly drunk and Freddy drags him into the shower and turns it on, stripping the bed and using the sheets to wipe up most of the mess. 

“Thought you were leaving today,” Tyler says as he washes himself with body wash and struggles to do his hair, Freddy washing his hands in the sink.

“I was, but you drunk dialed Segs last night, and he got worried. They’re out at practice right now.” _You’re lucky they are_ is left unspoken between them, and Tyler crawls out the shower as Freddy drops a towel on him and sets on sloppily making the bed. He throws open the windows and lets the frigid breeze blow through to air out the stench of frat house and vomit, and Tyler shivers as he pulls on sweatpants and an old hockey shirt. 

He collapses onto the bed and passes out before he can hear anything else from Freddy.

 

“Brownie... wake up,” someone whispers against his face, and he tries to shrug them off, but their grip is too strong and he moans. His head is pounding and his mouth feels like a fucking desert; his stomach aching and he feels off-kilter, and even trying to open his eyes is a struggle.

“Drink this,” the voice says and something cool is pressed against his lips. He tries a little, and it’s blue Gatorade — his favourite. He sips until he can open his eyes and sees Segs lying next to him, worry marring his features.

“What the fuck, man? Why would you get that drunk when I’m not there to take care of you?” he asks, and Tyler manages to reach out a shaky arm to pull Segs closer against his body, falling back asleep.

 

It takes the rest of the day before Tyler can eat solids, the worst of his hangover being slept through, and Segs is furious.

“You think it’s a good idea to get so trashed you almost die?!” he yells, and Cody lurks in the background, a similarly stormy expression on his face. Tyler rolls his eyes.

“I didn’t almost die, stop being so dramatic. It was my first frat party, I was celebrating.”

Segs looks like he’s going to explode, and Freddy smoothly interjects that he knew they were all at home to take care of him, and Tyler will obviously be smarter at the next party.

“You’re fucking older than me, but you act like such a dumbass! What the hell is wrong with you?” Segs snarls and storms off, slamming his bedroom door in the silence that follows. Tyler just sinks into the lounge and flips on the television, vegging out until he can’t stand it anymore and goes to their room. Segs is reading a battered paperback, and puts it aside when Tyler sits down on his side, trying to figure out how to start this conversation and what he needs to say.

“I’m sorry,” he starts, taking Sarah’s advice. Segs snorts.

“For what? Getting so drunk you could’ve — fucking hell, Brownie, anything could’ve happened to you!” Segs explodes, and Tyler rubs his face.

“I wasn’t — I was drunk but I didn’t say anything. I knew not to,” he says and that turns out to be completely the wrong thing, as usual. Segs’ jaw drops.

“You _asshole!_ I wasn’t talking about you outing me! I was talking about you getting mugged or stabbed and killed or fucking raped or something! Boston isn’t safe, this isn’t fucking Wasaga where you leave your doors open and shit!”

“You can’t really leave your doors open in Wasaga,” Tyler mumbles, and Segs whacks him. 

“Fuckface, not the point! I was worried about you! You don’t do stupid shit like this!” he exclaims, and Tyler nods, wanting this to be over already. He knows why they need to be talking, knows it’s healthy and they need to work on it, but it’s still painful. It’s still awkward and leaving him unsure of how much to tell and how much to keep to himself. 

“I know, and I’m sorry. I really am. I’ve made a lot of like, bad decisions and shit in the past couple of months... well, for a while now. But you’re — I wouldn’t risk you, okay?” He needs to make sure Segs knows that for all his flaws, Tyler wouldn’t ever do that to him.

Segs is still glaring but he moves closer, pulling Tyler until they’re lying down, face to face. 

“I know. I’m not worried about that. I’m worried about you.”

Tyler nods and shuffles closer, leaning in until he’s nosing against Segs’ cheek and kisses him. He probably won’t ever get used to getting to touch and taste like this, just taking what he wants and not have to worry about it, and he can never get enough.

“I’m sorry. I’ll do better next time,” he promises, pulling Segs tighter to him. Segs grumbles something but lets himself be pulled in, being kissed.

He keeps kissing until he’s writhing in Tyler’s arms, powerful thighs bracketing his body and fingers digging into Tyler’s shoulders.

“Want you,” Segs mumbles against his lips, and Tyler nods and pulls off his shirt, Segs’ following soon after.

“Fucking so hot... can’t believe you let me near you, I look so fucking shit next to you,” Tyler says, trailing kisses along his stomach on his way to Segs’ cock.

“W-what?” Segs grinds out, his feet digging into the mattress as Tyler works on swallowing him down, his hands moving with his mouth, getting as sloppy as he can stand.

“You heard me,” Tyler says between breaths, and Segs digs his fingers into Tyler’s arm in an effort to make him stop so they can — fuck, talk or something?

“You seriously wanna talk about that _now?_ ” Tyler huffs out, and Segs bites his lip.

“Okay, after blowj— _oh, fuck!_ ” Segs gasps out as Tyler moves back on him, grinding down against the mattress to ease some of the pressure. He moans himself around Segs when the friction of his pants catches against his cock and it’s; he doesn’t even have words for how good Segs makes him feel, like this. 

His jaw is aching by the time Segs comes, his fingers buried in Tyler’s hair, shouting out Tyler’s name as loudly as he can. Tyler pulls off, come sliding down the edges of his lips and Segs grins and licks into his mouth, cleaning Tyler up and dragging him on top. He reaches a hand between them and starts to jerk Tyler off, hard and fast. Tyler gasps and whines, begging Segs for more between kisses and sucking on his neck, bringing as many hickies as he dares to the surface. He’s playing with fire but fuck it; he’s sick of being careful.

He follows Segs over not long after, coating Segs’ fingers and spilling onto his stomach. He collapses on top of him, huffing laughter out of Segs in the process before he rolls off and waits for Segs to groan and move for the tissues. 

Predictably, Segs cuddles up to his side for the afterglow, slinging an arm over Tyler’s stomach and sighing against his neck, nosing underneath his ear.

“So, you wanna tell me about anything?” he asks teasingly, and the post-haze has started to set in and Tyler’s feeling loose and happy. 

“I dunno... it’s just, you’re so _you,_ y’know? And sometimes it’s like, you could be with someone so much better, or whatever. Someone who’s pretty enough for you, what you deserve.” 

Tyler feels embarrassed the second the words leave his mouth, and wants to sink underneath the bed and never come out. Segs, to his credit, just bursts into laughter.

“What the _fuck,_ man?” he yelps, and punches Tyler’s arm.

“Ow, motherfucker!” Tyler says and Segs rolls his eyes.

“You’re such an idiot. Where did you— you’re not shitty looking or whatever. I’m jealous of you!” he exclaims, and Tyler snorts.

“You’re delusional.”

“No, _you’re_ delusional. Man, I just— fuck, you have the best blue eyes. Like, I’m not even kidding. I’m so jealous, I’ve just got shitty brown ones and it’s like— and you don’t ever give up anything easy. Like, ever. Everything’s always meaningful to you, and you just— it’s why I know you giving up hockey was the worst and hardest decision in your life. Because you always worked so hard for it, and you’re working so hard on this school thing. You always give 110% and that’s like, one of your best traits. I’m so lazy compared to you.”

“Oh, come _on_ now, you’re laying it on so thick—”

“I’m serious! Fuck, the first time I got you to laugh at Plymouth I thought I was gonna bust a nut right there, man. It was over something so stupid too, I don’t even know. It was like getting to the playoffs though, because you made it mean something. I’m so fucking easy for anything, with a smile or whatever. Not sex. I’m a one-dude guy,” he says seriously, and Tyler can’t help but laugh. Segs trails his fingers along Tyler’s stomach, running his tips over the ridge of each rib.

“And I think your body is awesome; all your scars and shit. Your knees and your long legs, your stomach. The fact you eat so much fucking food and you’re not even training and you’ve still got a hockey player body. And you’re mad smart — I know you think you’re stupid but you’re not. You got into university, a good one, and you’re kicking ass... You’re the one who should be doing better than a dumb hockey player, okay?” Segs looks up at him, his face open, and Tyler tries not to do anything embarrassing. 

“I think that’s probably the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me... besides saying I was ‘never a bro’. Candace is gonna lose her mind,” he says and Segs grins, surging up to kiss him.

“I mean it, though. You’re awesome, okay? Don’t ever feel like you’re not.”

Tyler nods. “I guess we can underachieve together, eh?” and Segs laughs and slides on top.

“Yep. As long as we do it together.”

 

They fall asleep tangled up in each other, and when Tyler wakes up the next morning Segs is yawning and burying his face in Tyler’s chest, protesting either of them getting up.

“Sleep,” he whines, and Tyler chuckles. 

“Nope, sorry, bud. I gotta go learn shit, and you have to go to practice.”

Segs convinces him to share a shower, that results in kind of awesome handjobs, slick and eager, all slides of skin and no friction, his fingers digging into Segs’ ass and staying there while Segs moans and whines against his mouth. 

He gets to university, sated and ridiculous with it, and no amount of chirping from any of them about getting some for the rest of the day can shift his mood.

 

*

 

February gets closer and brings with it more bitter weather — the temperature within the house becoming just as arctic as outside as their fights start to pick up in frequency, little snipes here and there slowly building into one huge storm hovering above them. 

It’s mostly about the money stuff — Tyler still having issues with Segs paying for everything and acting like an asshole when he certainly doesn’t need to be. Segs seems to be getting upset when university starts to take up more of his time and he has to bail on several dinner dates and movie nights, but he refuses to explain or even confirm Tyler’s suspicions, so he’s back where he was a few months earlier; on the outside and unsure how to break through. 

He falls asleep in the living room more often than not, surrounded by books as midterms get closer, spending longer and longer in the library with his friends, trying to cram as much knowledge in his stupid fucking head as possible. 

Freddy has taken to shaking his head a lot when Tyler whines at him about the workload, similarly buried under his own schedule, and Cody has absolutely no sympathy which is working on Tyler’s last damn nerve. Nobody in the fucking house will speak to him most days, and his brother is the last person he thought would be acting like this.

 

“The fuck is wrong with you?” Cody hisses one evening as he doesn’t stir when Segs walks past and goes to their bedroom, hesitating for a second before shutting the door with somewhat less aggression that he has the past two weeks. 

“Huh?” he asks, not looking up from his textbook. He’s trying to figure out what’s the best plan of action for highlighting important passages, and it all seems fucking important. Maybe he should just highlight it all, a nice huge block of fluro orange.

Cody starts bitching at him about “fixing” the Segs situation — whatever that is because Segs sure as shit isn’t telling him what his problem is — and Tyler slams his hand down on the table. Cody’s mouth snaps shut straight away.

“You know what? Fuck _you,_ Cody! You’re supposed to be my fucking brother, and all you’ve done this entire time is bitch and whine at me about how fucking shit I am. Remember your goddamned fucking place, asshole! You might be a Bruin now but you’re a fucking Brown first, and you’re my little brother after that, alright?!”

Tyler’s chest is heaving and his palm hurts from where his hand met the textbook, and Cody looks like he’s — God, it’s like when they were kids again, and Tyler got shitty and started yelling at him, using that horrible voice that only ever came out when he played hockey. Now there’s no hockey, no outlet for the anger that’s been lurking under his skin, no end in sight.

“Fuck you,” Cody snarls and walks away, leaving him standing in the kitchen, alone. 

 

It’s impossible to get advice from any of his friends at university, since he can’t really explain his situation and isn’t smart enough to think of words to get around using ‘Segs’ and ‘boyfriend’. 

He sort of tries with Sarah, regardless.

“So, what’s been eating you, Gilbert Grape?” she asks one afternoon when he disappears to the bathroom for twenty minutes when Yasir points out to him that he’s done the entire Intro to Research assignment wrong, and he’ll have to rewrite the whole goddamned thing. He punches the bathroom wall a couple of times and just ends up with bruised knuckles and a $50 bill from the nurse who patches him up. He stays outside, sitting in the courtyard closest to the library, breathing in the cold air and trying to meditate the rage out of him.

She finds him a few minutes later and sits down next to him, petting his knee as he asks. He sags down against the wall.

“Relationship problems,” he says softly, and she nods.

“Ah. I thought so. You wanna talk?” she asks, and he shakes his head. He doesn’t know them well enough — can barely talk to Segs as it is; it’d feel wrong - cheap, even. Plus, he’s kind of kept the topic off limits after they went to lunch a couple of days after the frat party, and Andy tried to press the ‘complicated’ issue. 

“Not really. It’s not something that can be fixed, y’know? It just is what it is. I’m just having trouble dealing with it,” he says, getting the closest he’s ever gotten with anyone. Which is bullshit; Segs has all these people he can talk to about their issues, but he’s got nobody. He has Cody, but even Cody’s been Team Segs lately. 

“Well, even if you can’t fix it... it’s still okay to be upset about it. You should talk to your partner and let them know this is upsetting you,” she says, and Tyler can feel her hesitate a little. He nods and presses his fingers together, the skin pulling tight under the bandages. 

 

*

 

House chores aren’t getting done because Tyler’s barely ever there these days, so the others start leaving passive aggressive notes on every surface — the heating on the second floor is off, the lights need replacing in the linen closet, the maid’s been slacking off with the vacuuming, there’s not enough food in the fridge — on and on, like Tyler’s the housekeeper or something. 

It’s getting so fucking toxic, and the other day he’d opened a browser and started looking around for single-bedroom places to rent close to campus, before he slammed the laptop shut and had to go to the gym for an hour, trying to work out his guilt and shame. 

He’s been looking for a job in brief spare moments as well, because he can’t stand Segs losing money for him hand over fist much longer. Plus, if everything goes completely south, he needs a backup. He cannot take much else from Segs in good conscience; is sick of taking it now. It looks like he’ll be out on his ass soon enough, anyway. 

Since he can’t talk to any of his new friends about the crappy new turn in his love life, he only has Jesse or his sister to turn to, and that is so beyond pathetic he doesn’t know what to do.

He’s already talked to Jesse once about their issues and doesn’t fancy going back there again, especially since he was Segs’ friend first, so he waits until his brother and Segs leave on their next road trip before he rings.

 

“Ty?” Michelle sounds sleepy, and Tyler squints at his alarm clock. It’s still definitely the middle of the day, so the fact she’s asleep is weird.

“You alright?” he asks, and she laughs.

“I’ve got the flu, asshole. How about you? I heard from Cody that things are kind of intense right now,” she says, sniffling. Tyler snorts.

“He’s forgetting who he is, little fuckface. Tries to call me out, like I’m the one with the issue. Fucking hell, I’m trying as hard as I can! Neither of those two assholes are — and they start leaving me notes about shit that’s wrong with the house. I’m there fucking less than they are!” he says, and Michelle sighs.

“Ty, you’re still _there_ more than they are, and it’s... it’s not fair on them, y’know. You have a break coming up soon, don’t you?”

“Not really. We’ve got Presidents Day off in February, but there’s no break until March.”

Michelle sighs and Tyler crawls into bed, breathing Segs’ scent in and aching a little. He misses touching him, kissing him, waking up and falling asleep to him. He needs to fix things, he’s just not sure there’s much left to fix.

“I don’t know if I can keep doing this,” he whispers and Michelle waits.

“I just... we fight all the damn time. Like, _all_ the time. Things are okay for a bit and then they get fucked up even worse than they were before. I — he’s my best friend. He’s supposed to be my best friend, and I can’t talk to him about anything anymore. He’s already paid for my first semester but what if things are still fucked up after the summer? What if I can’t — what if we’re not even together anymore? He’s done all this shit for me and I’m just angry over everything. Over the money stuff, even though I fucking agreed, it just makes me feel so uncomfortable just _taking_ from him all the time, y’know? And—and I can’t talk about him to anyone. My frat house meltdown was like, someone asked me if I had a girlfriend and the closest thing I could bring myself to say was that it was complicated. It isn’t complicated, it’s so fucking simple. I have a boyfriend, and he plays hockey.”

“Oh, Tyler,” Michelle whispers, and Tyler curls deeper in the sheets and pillows, trying to pretend like Segs is here with him, like they were before things got all fucked up.

“I’m gonna try harder with the house stuff, and I want... I don’t know how to fix things with Segs, we’re not talking again — he was never this mad over shit all the time when we were friends. Even with like, his last girlfriend he was never this crazy. Why is he such a freak with me?”

“Ty, like... you have no idea what’s going on in Tyler’s head. He’s probably scared shitless he’s going to get outed, scared of how he doesn’t care because he likes you so much. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have asked you to come live with him and brought you to his mom’s wedding. I know you don’t wanna hear this, but you really need to talk to him — about like, everything. About the money stuff, about how hard school is... about how you need him to help you; it can’t always be him getting mad and you trying to make things better.”

Tyler knows she’s right, is the worst thing.

 

*

 

Most of his midterms are scheduled just before the break in March, and he gets a breather for a week at the start of February from the crazy studying and paper writing. Instead of spending more time with his friends, he fixes all the stuff in the house — bitches the maid out and insists the company send someone capable, fills the fridge with food and replaces all the lights and sheets; he’s even cooking when Cody and Segs slump through the door after an unsuccessful roadie, losing both games. 

He’s got a replay of the football on the television, still not quite ready to watch hockey yet, and calls out a greeting to them, almost making Cody have a heart attack.

“Jesus, fuck!” he yells, and Segs laughs.

“What the hell, man? You’re _cooking?_ ” he asks, peering nervously at his brother over the counter.

“Yeah. I’ve got like, a week to stop being a crazy person before midterms ramp up again so I decided to take care of the passive-aggressive house suggestions and stop being such a dick all the time,” he offers up, not looking at Segs. His brother sniffs and tells him he doesn’t want any burned chicken and disappears to his room, leaving Segs standing there, kind of nervous.

“You, ah. You have midterms soon?” he asks, his voice sounding kind of wrecked. Tyler bites down hard on his lip.

“Yeah, in March. I’ve got a bunch of papers due in February but it’s alright, I’m finally — I mean. I’m not fighting to stay afloat anymore, y’know? I learned how to swim.” He darts a look up at Segs, who’s staring at him like — like he doesn’t even recognise Tyler or something. His stomach sinks.

“Oh. That’s good.”

“Segs, wait—” he starts, rushing around from the kitchen to stand in front of him. Segs looks defeated, and Tyler wants to punch something. This isn’t — it needs to be better again.

“I — I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry I’ve been a dick, and I’m sorry I don’t... I’m not a good boyfriend. I don’t know what I’m doing — and I told you we needed to fucking communicate. You shut me out all the time, and I’m... how am I supposed to read your mind, eh? I need you to help me.”

Segs nods. “I’m trying, I just... why are we such good friends but we suck together like this? I’m sick of us fighting all the time,” Segs rasps, and Tyler tamps down on a smile. 

“I’ve been asking myself the same thing, dude. I really don’t know. I think... I think we’re used to being such kickass friends and thought it’d like, automatically translate over into the romantic stuff, y’know? And it obviously doesn’t.”

“I’m sorry, too. I’m gonna try harder to like... tell you how I’m feeling about this stuff. It’s all so stupid. I just... I miss you being around, you’ve got your own life now and... I dunno, I just didn’t want to burden you with more of my shit—”

“Segs, fucking hell, we talked about this last time! That’s what I’m here for! I’m your b— I’m _me_ , okay? I always want you to talk to me about whatever’s going on.” His hands are on Segs’ shoulders, and his skin wants to rejoice at touching him, even through layers. It’s a step closer to whatever he’s been dealing with since all this mess started, for sure.

“Even about hockey stuff?” Segs asks, and Tyler blanches and lets his arms fall away.

“I, uh.”

“Every time we’ve asked you to come to a game, you have some excuse. You can’t just turn your back on hockey, Ty—”

“Fuck you, Tyler! You have no idea how hard it is, trying to fucking deal with not playing anymore!” Tyler snarls, suddenly mad again. Segs’ eyes flash dark. 

“Of course I don’t, because you don’t talk to me about anything anymore!”

“Because what am I supposed to say?” Tyler exclaims.

“I don’t fucking know, anything is better than nothing!”

“Fine, what do you want to hear? How much it fucking sucks knowing hockey’s going on without me, while I’m fucking _stuck_ here?! How my brother got a fucking high draft pick and I had to fight all my fucking life just to get picked up as a free agent?! How my best friend spends more time being mad at me over stupid fucking shit that he never talks to me about and disappears all the fucking time — which whatever, I’m getting used to the road trip shit but it still fucking sucks — and then acts like _I’m_ the one with the issue!? How I can’t even stomach the idea of sitting in a rink and smelling the ice and the fucking shitty food and hearing the crowd and knowing I’ll never— I’ll never be the reason they’re happy?”

He deflates, leaning against the wall. He feels wrung out and exhausted, and Segs is looking wild eyed. He closes his eyes and breathes, wondering if this is it; if his issues are too big and hockey-related for Segs to deal with, if Segs is going to leave him like he’s been— but Tyler feels him moving closer until a hand presses itself against his neck. Tyler can’t help but lean into it, opening his eyes and looking up at him.

“Yeah, I want to hear all of that.”

He leans in and kisses Tyler, chaste, and pulls back. 

“Okay. What about you?” he asks, and Segs shrugs.

“I guess... I feel like I never get to talk to you about anything, because you’re always so busy with your school shit. And I’m — I’m super proud of you, y’know? Like, you have no idea. And I started... I’ve been upset that you’re not around, I guess. I had an idea in my head what it’d be like, y’know? Being with you, you living with me — and it’s so different than that. It’s just gonna take some time, that’s all.” Segs shrugs, and Tyler finally smiles. Segs smiles back.

It’s not fixed, but they’re — it’s starting to be, maybe. 

 

*

 

His phone has been vibrating in his pocket all day, but he’s been too busy trying to cram for the Curriculum and Special Methods in PE paper he’d forgotten about — due tomorrow for a class that’s utterly kicking his ass and his inability to remember every important fact that’s resulted in scary, colour-coded flash cards that Jessa made for him. 

So, he’s coming inside and throws his book bag on the ground, loudly complaining about his horrible day — in an effort to communicate — when he turns around and sees — well, sees a fuckton of people in his house. 

“The fu— uh, what?” he starts to say, and stops when he sees small children running across the living room. Segs looks blank, and Freddy looks like he’s going to kill him. God, even Jesse’s here. There really are a lot of people in their house and he’s got a sinking feeling he really should’ve looked at his phone.

“Is your phone broke?” Freddy asks, and his first instinct is lie. So he does.

“Uhm, actually... sort of, yeah? It’s been on the fritz for a few days now. I was meaning to go to the Apple store or whatever during my lunch break but uh, I got distracted by revision...” he trails off, and edges towards the corridor with their bedrooms. 

“I’ll be back.” 

He books it to their ensuite, sitting down on the toilet seat and grabbing his phone. 

35 missed calls (12 of which are from Segs), 23 texts (another 8 from him), and 4 voicemails. Fuck. He scrolls to the first message from Segs, and it’s — oh, man.

**Segs:**  
 **09:32**  
 _I GOT IN2 TEAM CANADA!!!!!! GOIN TO RUSSIA BABY!!!!!!!_

**Segs:**  
 **09.33**  
 _??!?!?!?!_

**Segs:**  
 **09.34**  
 _HELLOOOOOO omg fine you’re probs studying call me when you get this!!!!!_

**Segs:**  
 **11.35**  
 _hey having people over the house 2nite for a celebratry dinner. bring cake and blow jobs_

**Segs:**  
 **12.08**  
 _hello??_  


**Segs:**  
 **14.20**  
 _omg man answer me fuck._

**Segs:**  
 **15.12**  
 _tyler jesus fucking call me already, okay?_

**Segs:**  
 **17.47**  
 _dude your being an asshole, fucking answer me. this is a shitty idea of communication._

 

He stares at the texts, the guilt eating him up, until someone knocks on the door.

“Brownie?” Freddy’s voice floats through, and Tyler feels like he’s gonna be sick. He unlocks the door and grabs Freddy, yanking him inside and shutting the door.

“Dude, I just fucking — I got my phone working and fuck, I feel like the biggest asshole ever!” he moans, and Freddy rolls his eyes.

“You honestly think he bought your ‘my phone was dead’ bullshit? Dude, everyone’s got an iPhone these days so someone would’ve had a cable. And you’re constantly stuck to yours. Test or not, the Apple store would’ve been your first stop as soon as it started fucking up.”

Tyler shakes his head, and goes to protest, but Freddy just shrugs.

“Whatever, you’re here now. We’re just about to eat. Segs is really fucking pissed off at you though. Cody said he sulked all through training and came home and locked himself in his bedroom till people started turning up, and he kept looking at the door all excited and shit every time someone new came, and got even more pissed when it wasn’t you,” Freddy continues, and Tyler scrubs at his face.

“Oh my God, he’s going to eat my face when everyone leaves,” he whispers, and Freddy snorts.

“Yeah, probably. Do you even have a good excuse?”

He’d been studying all day, locked down in a room with his friends, and hadn’t even bothered to look at his phone, not even on the drive home. It was such a shitty reason.

“By the looks of your face, no.”

“I was studying, and I just — I didn’t look at my phone. That’s it,” he gulps out, and Freddy rolls his eyes.

“Whatever, man. Just don’t get too close to him and uh, take whatever punishment and abuse comes your way. You deserve it.”

Tyler nods, and Freddy slaps him on the arm and opens the door. He follows him out and back into the main room, saying hi to people he recognises from the team. He looks at Freddy, who rolls his eyes when he realises that the only spare seat is next to Segs. 

“Fuck,” he whispers under his breath, and slides into the chair. 

“You look like Marshall, all slinky and sad after he’s like, peed on my bed,” is all Segs says, and reaches for some barbecue meat. Everyone starts laughing and slides into easy chatter but Tyler stays silent, only speaking when someone asks him something — generally polite small talk about his degree and how it’s going.

“You gonna be the next Yankee President?” Milan jokes, and Tyler huffs out a laugh.

“Too Canadian,” is all he says, and slips back into not speaking for the rest of his meal. His phone’s buzzing with a group chat, but he doesn’t dare even reach for it. He doesn’t know how Segs is going to react, and he can’t bear to make it worse, not when they’re finally starting to get things back on track. 

 

He clears the table with his brother and Jesse, his brother grabbing a massive cake from the fridge and parading it out into the dining room while Jesse stocks the dishwasher and Tyler scrapes food into the bin.

“Do you have a good excuse?” Jesse asks, and Tyler winces.

“Not really, no.”

“Awesome,” Jesse answers, and Tyler glares down at the dishes, scrubbing his frustration out on the plates as hard as he can. Fucking great. 

 

The last people to leave head off a few hours after Tyler gets home, and Jesse decides to crash the night and disappears with Freddy and Cody to the games room, shutting the door behind them, leaving Segs picking up the last dessert plates from the table and Tyler in the kitchen, leaning nervously against the counter.

“Look, Segs, I—” he starts, and Segs just shakes his head.

“Save it, man. I don’t wanna hear it.”

“But—”

“No, I mean it. You’re gonna give me some like, super logical reason why you didn’t answer me, and I’m gonna feel like a douchebag for being as pissed at you as I am, when we’re trying. And like, fuck you. I deserve to be fucking mad right now, okay? This is a huge thing for me. The least you could’ve done was like, fucking texted me back an ‘ _Awesome bud, congrats. Blowjobs for you tonight!_ ’ or something. Instead of fucking ignoring me like a massive asshole.”

Tyler worries at his bottom lip. Segs looks so unbelievably unhappy, and Tyler can’t believe that this — that this shit is _his_ fault. It’s properly his fault this time, and he feels himself slipping back into getting frozen out again, the more Segs methodically works through the clean up and gets further and further away from him. 

“I’m really sorry, Segs. _Tyler._ I really am. I promise, I won’t — it won’t happen again.”

Segs nods, and looks at the ground, where Marshall’s rubbing against his leg. “You can sleep on the couch tonight. I don’t think I want you in bed near me right now.”

Tyler nods, and watches Segs leave, going to their room and shutting the door behind him, like so many nights before. His chest is aching and he just wants to fucking rage all over the place, but he finishes cleaning up and strips to his boxers, pulling the throw over him and lying there until he falls asleep.

 

He sleeps through his alarm the next morning, his phone still on silent from the night before, and isn’t woken up until Cody, Freddy and Jesse wander into the lounge and sit on him.

“Someone’s in the dog house... and hey, aren’t you supposed to be at school?” Cody says, and Tyler swears and struggles out from under them.

“Fuck! I’m so fucking late, fuck!” It’s almost eleven, and he stops the weird dance he’s doing, trying to pull his shorts back on. He’s only got class until one and then he usually heads home to study or watch movies — whatever comes first. 

“Fucking no point. Goddamnit,” he snaps, finishing pulling up his shorts and thinking about kicking the coffee table, ultimately deciding against it. He grabs his shirt and phone and storms off to their bedroom, where Segs is lying in bed reading something on his iPad.

“Why are you—” Segs starts, but Tyler just blows past him into the ensuite and slams the door behind him. He’s in the shower, the water running borderline boiling, when the door opens and someone walks in.

“Cody told me you slept through class,” Segs says and Tyler’s fists clench at his sides. If Segs had just... if he’d been in bed, he would’ve set his alarm, instead of fucking lying on the couch like some wronged husband. He knows he fucked up but Jesus, this wasn’t the fucking cure.

“Whatever,” he finally forces out and Segs starts.

“This isn’t my fault, asshole—” he starts, and Tyler snarls.

“I didn’t fucking say it was, alright?! Just, get out my fucking face. I don’t want to do this shit right now.”

There’s a pause, before Segs swears and leaves, slamming the door behind him, and Tyler reaches out to his phone sitting beside the shower and blindly texts Andy, asking if anyone’s doing anything. When he’s towelling off, he notices Andy’s reply — a couple of them are going to see a movie, only just deciding after class (where the hell was he, by the way?) and they were about to ask him. 

He walks back out into the empty bedroom and he changes into jeans and a tee, shoving his feet into sneakers and heading back out into the house. His wallet and car keys are in his book bag, and he crouches down and grabs them, pulling a cap off the door stand and jamming it on his head.

“Where are you going?” Segs asks from behind him, and he stands up and turns around.

“Out. I want to get some fresh air,” he says, and Segs rolls his eyes.

“So instead of sorting out our problems you’re gonna run away? Fucking awesome.”

Tyler sees red, and Cody moves in front of him before he can get to Segs and punch his lights out. “Segs, that wasn’t — that’s not fair. Ty, calm the _fuck_ down!” Cody barks as Tyler struggles to shove him off, and takes a step back.

“Look, you’ve got issues to deal with, and you shouldn’t be going anywhere until you sort them, okay?” Cody says, and Tyler glares.

“It’s our business, Cody, not yours!” he snaps back, and Cody laughs.

“Me and Freddy have to live with you two assholes, so it kind of _is_ my business. You need to fix this, alright? Look, we get it. Your life is different now, you’ve got different priorities and deadlines to meet — you don’t even skype much anymore because you’re so busy, but we get that. It’s just, when we are here you don’t even... sometimes it feels like you don’t even make an effort. This is just another situation where you’re...” Cody trails off, lost for words. 

Tyler pulls back, feeling out of control. “Is that — what? You think I’ve just completely checked out?!” he gasps at Segs, who can’t look at him. Jesse steps in, grabbing Freddy and Cody.

“We’re gonna go see a movie. You two sort out your shit and have make up sex nowhere but your room, because gross. Okay? Nobody’s going anywhere.” he orders, shoving the others towards the door. 

“Cody’s right.” Segs says a few beats later, and Tyler sags against the back of the couch. 

“I just feel like... we’re having the same arguments over and over, y’know? We’re making the same mistakes, and I don’t — it’s just fucking _dumb_ ,” Segs says and Tyler nods.

“We just need to figure out how to make more time for each other, and how to be like... better for each other,” Tyler adds on. Segs nods and leans next to him, their shoulders pressing together. Tyler really wants to kiss him right now, but he knows that he can’t keep using sex to act as a solvent or something. He needs to be adult about this. 

“Okay, starting now we are going to be like... the Tylers 2.0 or something.” Tyler says, and Segs snorts.

“Tyler squared?” he jokes, and Tyler punches his arm.

“Shut up. We’re going to dinner tonight. Bar 23 sound good?” he asks, and Segs raises an eyebrow.

“And how are you gonna get in? You need to call that place like, a week in advance,” he says.

“What, and namedropping you won’t get me a table?” he winks, pulling out his phone and searching for their number. Segs flushes, and Tyler calls and gets them a dinner reservation within thirty seconds. 

“So you’re gonna date me?” Segs asks when Tyler hangs up and tucks his phone back in his pants. Tyler coughs, feeling a little embarrassed.

“Well, I mean...” he trails off, and Segs moves into his space, biting his lip.

“I like it,” he says and Tyler leans in to nuzzle against Segs’ neck. 

 

~

 

Segs takes a picture of them both, holding a rose up to Tyler and posting it on Twitter with the caption “bro date tonight... feeling like i might put out if he wines and dines me good!” Freddy and Cody think it’s the most hilarious thing they’ve ever seen, and Tyler just rolls his eyes and shoves Segs out the front door. 

He hasn’t checked his Twitter for months; since that night at the Seguin house around the wedding, figuring that everyone following him wouldn’t give a shit about a retired hockey player anymore. 

He drives, because Segs insists it was Tyler’s idea, so he’s playing the role of the datée this evening. “Like it fucking matters — we’re both going to the same place,” Tyler says as he climbs into the drivers seat. Segs just looks smug and squeezes his thigh, and settles in for the short drive to the restaurant.

Tyler has enough cash in his pants pocket that he doesn’t feel like he’s shirking when they get the car put in valet and he slips a bill into the guy’s front pocket, sweeping them inside and toward a seat off on the side. 

 

It’s a good night, and Tyler can’t remember the last time it was just them two like this; they’ve probably not been this alone, properly so, since Segs came to visit him in Wasaga. 

His steak is amazing and he doesn’t visibly flinch at the price in the menu, and Segs picks the wine. 

“I’ll never get over being able to like, properly enjoy drinking in public,” Segs says as the sommeliere comes to their table and pours them two glasses of red. Tyler isn’t a huge wine drinker so he takes a cautious sip and wrinkles his nose; Segs laughs and does the same.

They fall silent while they’re eating to enjoy the food, and Segs orders them cake after their plates are taken away.

“Cake? Surely that’s not part of your dietary plan,” Tyler teases and Segs makes a face.

“Fuck my diet.”

 

Neither of them can really stay out late, so they settle the bill and make their way back to the valet. On the drive home, Segs watches him and Tyler tries to ignore it until he can’t anymore.

“What, man? Take a picture it’ll last longer,” he says.

“I’ve got enough pictures of your ugly face, I don’t need any more.”

Tyler rolls his eyes, and the car goes quiet again but it’s comfortable, and Tyler pulls them into the driveway, happy with a successful date — sort of.

“So, how was that?” he asks as they make their way inside, taking off their jackets and hanging them up. Segs wraps his arms around Tyler’s neck and pulls him in, kissing him. He licks his way into Tyler’s mouth, moving his thigh so it wedges between Tyler’s, bringing them flush together.

When he pulls away, Tyler’s kind of breathless and Segs’ fingers are buried in his hair.

“You’re definitely breaking a piece off tonight,” Segs says against his mouth, giggling and pulling him towards their room, Tyler trailing dumbly behind.

 

*

 

Tyler’s completely taken over the dining room table again with his laptop and textbooks, notepads everywhere covered in highlighter and his scrawled handwriting — all in an effort to connect more with his brother and Segs, now they’ve talked about some of their issues. He’s even sort of told his friends that there’s a guy in his life — never more specific than that, but it’s like there’s a weight lifted off his shoulders, now that his friends know that there’s a guy. He knows he can’t tell them anything else than that, and he’s pretty sure they get that his boyfriend is someone famous and closeted, so they never press him.

(Sarah hugs him afterwards, doesn’t say anything but just hugs him, and he hugs back. 

“I’m glad you’re finally starting to trust us,” she whispers later, much later, when they’re in class and Tyler’s trying not to stab himself in the eyes with his pens to keep himself awake. He blushes and nods, and squeezes her knee.)

Sometimes, he just wishes Segs could come to campus like the others do, bringing their partners to sit in class and disappear early in the afternoon sunshine. 

 

He takes a run in an effort to jumpstart whatever creative centers are left in his stupid brain, and when he gets home there’s an envelope sitting on top of his closed laptop, and the place is empty; Segs and Cody had been getting ready for training while Tyler slept. Frowning, he sits in the chair and boots his laptop up, slipping his finger under the tab of the envelope and ripping it.

Inside is an itinerary from Toronto to Sochi, via Moscow; his name in a list of other family members of Segs’ on the same flight. There’s a print out of a map from the airport to a hotel, and a laminated pass. He pulls it out and peers at it – the logo for Sochi Winter Olympics 2014 is on it, along with a passport picture of his face and his name, along with “ _CANADA MEN’S ICE HOCKEY – FAMILY: SEGUIN, TYLER_ ” written next to his occupation, Cyrillic translations beneath it.

“Fuck,” he whispers to himself. It’s — he hasn’t really thought about it; has been so focussed on school and then all the fights they had, that the Olympics didn’t even factor into his brain. The fact Segs wants to take him, after everything, is kind of astounding as well. Then again, Segs took him to his mom’s fucking _wedding_ , kissed him in front of everyone and has been paying for his very existence since he quit hockey. 

They’re pretty fucking committed, even if they haven’t talked about it. At all.

 

He goes back to writing his paper, shooting looks at the envelope until Segs and Cody come back from practice. Cody yells something and flops down in front of the television, but Segs comes to stand next to him, running his hand to palm the back of Tyler’s head.

“Hey,” he says and Tyler smiles up at him, leaning in for a kiss. Segs comes willingly, and Tyler laughs against his mouth.

“I found an interesting present waiting for me,” he says, and Segs leans back, acting clueless.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I found a plane ticket and a family pass for Sochi. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?” he asks, and Segs chuckles.

“Nope, no idea,” he says, leaning down for another kiss.

“Go to your room,” Cody yells from the lounge room, sounding way too pleased about it, and Tyler rolls his eyes.

“I didn’t — I mean, uh...” Segs starts, and Tyler rolls his eyes and pulls Segs down, making him straddle Tyler’s lap.

“I’m glad,” is all he says, and Segs nods and pulls him close, wrapping his arms around Tyler’s neck and moving to press kisses along his jaw.

“I want you watching me when I bring the gold home,” he whispers against Tyler’s ear, grinding down. Tyler arches against him, splaying his legs further and enjoying the burn of Segs’ stubble against his.

“I want you—” Segs doesn’t get the chance to finish, Tyler turning to capture his mouth and kissing him dirtily, biting and licking at every part he can reach. Segs moans into his mouth and Cody swears and turns the TV up louder. Tyler stands up, hooking his hands under Segs’ thighs and Segs tightens them around the shelf of his hips. 

His arms strain as he staggers towards their bedroom, throwing him down and shutting the door behind him as he strips off his shirt, licking his lips. 

Segs is already half naked and shoving at his pants, trying to reach out to pull Tyler closer as he goes. 

“Fuck... you’re so fucking hot,” Segs gasps out, grinning as Tyler rolls his eyes at the flashback but kneels on the bed, Segs yanking him down before arching and grinding their hips together, biting at his jaw. 

“Fuck me,” he follows up, and Tyler nods blindly. 

_Whatever you want, Segs. Whatever you want,_ he thinks as he kisses a path down Segs’ stomach.

 

*

 

It’s easier said than done, trying to plan his life around Russia. He knew it was going to be difficult, since the end of the Olympics coincides with his first week of exams. He tells Cody this, who’s only advice is to not tell Segs — but fuck that. They’ve been through too much for Tyler to start not talking again. He doesn’t want to go back to how things were for the past few months.

He worries for two days over how to tell Segs — tell him what exactly, Tyler doesn’t know, but just _tell_ him — and in the end it comes about naturally, with little to no fuss. Pretty much sums up all the times he’s ever put effort into anything, only to be fucked over by karmic balance.

His table has been taken over with a giant wall planner that he’s savagely highlighting and writing all his due dates and exams, planning to take several pictures of, panorama-style, when Segs comes to see what he’s doing. Tyler’s blocked out his time in Sochi with thick black marker around the edges, and two major assignments fall within that period — so far. He’s still making his way through his fourth subject. 

“What’s this?” Segs asks, his shoulder pressing against Tyler’s. 

“It’s my plan, since Sochi falls in my finals period, I’m working out a schedule.”

Segs bites his lip and hesitates. “Ty, you don’t— I mean, if you can’t go, that’s okay. School’s important, and these seem like they’re worth a lot...” 

Tyler rolls his eyes and butts his shoulder against Segs’. 

“I’m meeting with two of my teachers today, and I’m pretty sure they’re gonna give me extensions. The other two aren’t but that’s alright. I’ll just have to spend a couple of days inside the hotel. We’re there for two weeks bro, don’t make me come home early.”

Segs just grins and Tyler feels — it feels _right_.

“Well, if you’re sure...” Segs trails off, his fingers creeping down Tyler’s back to palm his ass thoroughly.

“No time for that, ruthless planning ahead,” Tyler smirks and shoves Segs off. 

 

~

 

Later, when he’s on his way to university to see his professors, Andy texts and asks if he’s on campus.

**Tyler:**  
 **13.12**  
 _on my way, y? u there?_

**Andy:**  
 **13.14**  
 _yeah. meeting with profs. wish me luck!!!_

Tyler snorts and pulls into his parking lot, shouldering his bag and looking at his watch. He’s early, too early, so he checks into the group chat and sees Jessa lamenting being stuck in one of the computer labs. He calls her instead, and she answers.

“Hey, it’s Ty. You still at the Common? I’ve got about an hour to burn,” he says and she laughs.

“Of course, Tyler. I’ll meet you at Amalfi’s?” Tyler could go for some pizza, so he agrees and makes the short walk there from his parking lot.

 

Jessa’s rugged up and hunched over a table when he gets there, and he spots Yasir and the twins at the counter, ordering.

“I got you pepperoni, is that okay? Josh and Carts are at training but they’ll swing by after. Not sure where Sarah and Andy are,” she laments, and he nods. It’ll be good to tell as many at once that he’s going to Russia for a fortnight. 

They chat easily until the pizza arrives, Josh and Carts appearing shortly after and staring longingly at the food.

“That is one thing I totally don’t miss,” Tyler says obnoxiously, moaning loudly around the food. They break down and have a slice each, and start talking about their games over the coming weeks. It sounds like a packed schedule, and Carts is nursing a sore shoulder, but wants to power through the season and deal with surgery later.

“You’re a fucking idiot. Tell him he’s an idiot, Tyler!” Josh snaps, and Tyler shrugs.

“His body, man. I wouldn’t be fucking around with stuff like that, but hey — I never made it out the AHL,” he says. The table falls silent for a beat, everyone staring at him.

“What?” he asks, and Jessa smirks.

“It’s... this is probably the first time we’ve ever heard you talk about your hockey stuff, that’s all.” 

Tyler frowns, and tries to remember if he’s talked about it in the past. She’s probably got a point, and he shrugs.

“It’s been hard, I guess. Dealing with everything, trying to work through my own shortcomings and whatever,” he says, picking some pepperoni off his slice. 

“I can’t even imagine not having hockey anymore — being healthy to play but choosing not to,” Carts says. It’s not meant as an attack, and Tyler knows that, so he just shrugs again and smiles.

“I keep forgetting how young you are. It’s... it’s not a thing, y’know? There’s not a moment I just stopped loving hockey, or stopped wanting to succeed. It was like, a bunch of moments that all fused together into one big moment where I had to make a choice. The Flyers didn’t want me anymore, and being an unrestricted free agent is the worst. I felt so... unwanted and alone until the Flyers picked me up, and then like, it was the same because they didn’t want me either. Not really. So, when they said y’know... thanks but no thanks, it was kind of, a sign.”

Jessa pets his arm.

“How does Seguin feel about that?” Josh asks, and Tyler chokes on his drink.

“What?” he asks, eyes watering.

“You said at the start you were living with him while you studied. You’re gay — he’s a famous hockey player. I’m guessing he’s not like, giving you a hard time or anything?”

“No! No, of course not. He’s... he’s awesome. He’s my best friend,” Tyler struggles, trying to figure out a way around this so he’s not lying, but not admitting to anything. 

“He likes to see when we Skype, y’know. Make sure that I’m doing okay,” he rests on, and they all coo. Josh looks tempted to ask some more, so Tyler distracts him by asking about goal cellies that he’s been working on, and smiles when he gets preoccupied and forgets whatever he was going to ask.

The meal ends, and everyone’s talking about their upcoming midterms, when Tyler remembers why he wanted to see them all.

“Oh, by the way... I got tickets to the hockey stuff at the Winter Olympics, so I’m gonna be in Russia for like, the next two weeks.” he says, after Carts finishes complaining about his latest injury. 

“How the fuck did you get tickets?! How are you even affording to go?!” Josh exclaims, and Tyler grins.

“Fucking hell, he lives with Seguin — remember? Your boy totally hooked you up, didn’t he?” Andy snorts, and Tyler pulls out his phone and shows them the picture he took of the pass.

“Jesus, look at that.” Andy whistles, and Josh and Jessa groan.

“I’d love to be going. I’m so into curling,” Josh says, blinking when he realises what he’s just said. “Er...” he tries to backtrack, but everyone falls over each other laughing.

“Curling?!”

 

~

 

The meetings with his professors go well — he explains that he has to go away for two weeks on an unavoidable trip, and if he could get some leeway it would be appreciated. They both agree that he can hand his papers in late, and he gets Starbucks and donuts for Segs, Cody and Freddy on the drive home in celebration. 

“What’s all this?” Segs asks as he walks through the door, struggling with the carton carrier for the coffee, the donut bag between his mouth. 

“I dunno, celebrating? I finally talked about hockey with my friends and didn’t freak out. They asked if you were ‘okay’ with me being gay,” he chuckles when he gets a hand free to grab the donuts, and Segs laughs.

“I said you were cool with it, and that you liked to watch when I skyped to make sure I was okay,” he winks and yells when Segs attacks him with sloppy kisses, almost sending his coffee flying.

“I paid good money for these!” he yelps, setting the drink down long enough that he can tackle Segs to the ground, the dogs barking around them.

 

That night, they’re in bed and Segs is drawing idle patterns on Tyler’s chest.

“Have you— I mean, do you want to tell them?” he asks, and Tyler raises an eyebrow.

“Tell who, what?” he asks, and Segs rolls his eyes.

“Tell your friends about us, dummy.”

Tyler stares at the ceiling for a while, mulling things over in his head.

“No. I mean, I do but like... this isn’t the kind of thing you just tell people, y’know? They know I’m into dudes and I’m with a guy at the moment, but that it’s — it’s not something I can talk about. So they get it, and things are fine.”

“I know you’re a big sharer, so I thought I’d ask,” Segs says and Tyler yawns, exhausted.

“One day, it might be nice to say that I’m with you. For now, I guess I’m cool with how things are. The world sucks but nothing’s gonna change for us either way.” It kind of shocks him how he actually means what he’s saying, and the sad smile on Segs face portrays the same. 

“One day I’ll hold your hand in public, and treat you how you should be treated,” Segs whispers as he’s drifting off.

“Fuckin’ rights, bud.”

 

*

 

Preparing for Russia passes in a flash of blurs and colours, until it’s the night before and he’s trying to shove all his last-minute packing into his suitcase. 

He’s somehow lost all the hats he’d wanted to bring, which is a fucking _pain in his goddamned ass_ because it means he’ll have to steal Segs’, and wearing them will involve untold amounts of chirping from Jesse, Cassidy and Candace. God.

There’s a knock on the door, and Tyler barely throws a look behind him as he heads to their closet.

“Come in!” he yells, and starts shoving aside Segs’ things to try and find his hats. He knew he got one of those container things and put them all in it, but it’s disappeared off the face of the fucking Earth between then and now.

“Ty?” Cody calls from the room, and Tyler frowns. He was pretty sure his brother went out with the rest of the team for the dinner at Ference’s. Tyler had been invited, but he’d left his packing until far too late. Segs had just laughed, pointing at his own gear, meticulously packed and put in the corner of the room, ducking out before Tyler could throw anything at him. 

“I thought you were at the dinner?” Tyler asks, poking his head out the walk-in. Cody shrugs and sits on the edge of the bed, drumming his fingers on his legs. He can tell his brother is nervous about something, so he walks back into the room and sits beside him.

“You alright?” he asks, knocking their knees together. Cody shrugs again and looks down at his lap.

“I uh, I wanted to come talk to you before you go to Russia or whatever. About things... between us, being kind of shit this season — year, whatever.”

“Ah,” Tyler says, nodding. Cody had been the unfortunate collateral between most of the fights, getting caught between supporting his brother and supporting Segs. It was fucking hard for them — he hadn’t really stopped to think about how hard it was for Cody.

“Yeah...” Cody trails off, and Tyler shuffles closer. They aren’t exactly crazy close like Segs and his sisters; Tyler tells Cody most of his issues, and Cody comes to Tyler for advice, but Michelle’s really the glue that holds them all together. 

“Listen, bud... things have been rough, I know. And I haven’t been the best older brother to you that I could’ve been,” Tyler starts, and Cody shakes his head.

“Dude, I’ve been a shitty brother. I wasn’t — I mean, I didn’t know how to, in this situation. It’s pretty different,” Cody says softly, and Tyler nods.

“Yeah, isn’t it just? I didn’t think this time last year I’d be... y’know,” he trails off, and Cody snorts.

“Segs’ housewife?”

“I was just gonna go with _boyfriend_ , thanks. It’s been a learning curve for everyone, that’s for sure. I’m just sorry I haven’t been there for you. Are you okay? I mean — is Boston okay? Everyone’s treating you well?”

Cody laughs properly at that, flopping back down on the bed.

“Dude, if anyone was giving me shit that wasn’t like, rookie-related, I think both Segs and Ference would kill them.”

Tyler nods, his elbows on his knees. 

“It’s been rough, eh? Are things good with you two?” he asks, a few beats later, and Tyler nods and looks down at him, fond.

“Yeah, bro. Hopefully everything’s sorted out now.”

“Good,” Cody says, nestling against the bedsheets and duvet covers, as Bud bounds in and jumps on top of him.

“Because I’m kind of ready for you guys to start your like, happily ever after and put all this fighting bullshit behind you, okay?” Cody says, hidden somewhere under Bud’s wriggling body.

Tyler bites his lip and nods, trying to help pull Bud off Cody.

“Me too, bud.”

 

*

 

Finally, it’s the day they fly. Along with both sets of parents and their new partners, Segs has organised to bring his sisters, Jesse and Tyler as his ‘posse’, as he calls it. Freddy shrugs it off and calls himself the glorified dog sitter, and makes them all promise to bring him back “the good shit”, vodka wise. 

He and Segs fly to Toronto, but Segs is leaving on the team plane a day before Tyler’s due to depart with the rest of the family, which sucks. Segs is ridiculously nervous and Tyler does what he can, sitting next to Segs at the family dinner and participating in grace, being as tactile and sappy as he can manage without grossing himself, and everyone else, out. Segs just wants to cuddle on his last night, and Tyler doesn’t say no. He’s not sure he could, even if he tried.

Jackie cries when they drop Segs back at the airport to meet up with the team, and Tyler feels himself getting a little emotional when Segs hugs him, bone crushingly tight, and presses his lips just underneath his ear.

“Miss you already,” he whispers, and Tyler digs his fingers into Segs’ back. 

“Miss you more,” he chokes out, and then Segs is waving goodbye and jostling between Hall and Eberle to be first past the air hostess checking their tickets off.

 

~

 

He manages to write his paper for Special Methods in PE on the flight to Moscow squashed against the wall, between being conned into playing too many rounds of Candy Crush with Cassidy and Candace. 

Besides being disappointed their brother seemed to spend most of his time fighting with Tyler rather than enacting scenes from every shitty romance movie they can think of, they’re fine with him, leaving him alone when he got his game face on and thrashing out the goods.

“Why do I get stuck with Segs’ sisters?” he wails when the hostesses show them to their seats. Jesse rolls his eyes — he’s sitting with Jackie and Jeff, while Paul and his new girlfriend sit a couple of rows behind Tyler and the girls. 

 

Sochi airport is cold, the weather even worse outside as they huddle around the driver while he loads their suitcases into the van, his ridiculously thick accent making it difficult to navigate much of anything. Tyler snaps a few photos of the landscape before fighting Jesse over who sits down first. Segs’ manager has also organised rooms at the Radisson for them to stay in while they’re there, located in the city center. 

They have tickets to every Canada game, of course, and Jackie pulls out eight Team Canada jerseys emblazoned with Segs’ last name and number on the way to the hotel.

“Classy,” Jesse huffs in his ear as he takes one, grinning. Tyler rolls his eyes and rubs a thumb over the logo, his heart aching with everything he never got to achieve. He shoves it aside, determined to enjoy his time there — he’s there for Segs, and to see Canada kick everyone’s ass and be champions of the world again. 

 

*

 

The Opening Ceremony is astounding, and Tyler’s camera is soon filled with pictures of the family and of the teams walking out. They even manage to spot Segs, jumping and bouncing around, even streaking ahead at one point to launch himself on Patrick Kane when Team USA comes marching into the stadium. 

“Jealous?” Jesse mutters while Tyler’s clapping, and he elbows him. 

“Not a fucking chance.”

 

*

 

They don’t get to see Segs until after his first game, which sucks, but Jackie’s poring over sightseeing and package deals, wanting to see as much of the country as they can. Tyler just wishes it was a little warmer so they could go to the beaches. 

“It’s amazing, right? How it’s Russia but this place looks like St. Tropez,” Candace comments when he’s standing on the balcony one evening, listening to Jackie run through the mountains they can do hikes on. 

“Yeah, hopefully there’s a couple of nice days so we can work on our tan,” Tyler jokes, and Candace laughs.

“Aquarium!” Jesse yells behind them, and they turn to see him jabbing his finger at something in a book.

“Can we go tomorrow?! Ty?!” he exclaims, and Tyler rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, whatever.”

 

They all end up going, except Segs’ dad and girlfriend want to check out the markets and Cassidy’s come down with some bug she got off the plane. 

Jesse’s crazy about wanting to feed the penguins, so that’s how Tyler finds himself feeding penguins, Jackie laughing madly and taking way too many photos from the other side of the fence. Jesse’s cooing at them, and it’s kind of disturbing, and he plans on using this as blackmail as soon as they can escape. 

There’s huge tanks filled with all kinds of sea life and they lose hours there, spending most of the day staring at the sharks and hippos, tropical fish in all kinds of insane colours and he texts a few pictures to Segs. Tyler gets pictures of skates and half-naked hockey players back, and some chirping about cheating on him with a baby seal. 

He makes sure to text some pictures to Sarah and Andy in Boston as well, going back and forth with them about Russia and how fucking weird the weather is, but how awesome everything else is. Andy whines about missing out on the hockey while they’re stuck in Boston, watching the games at bizarre times while Tyler gets to see them live, and Sarah tells him to stop being such a jerk and to bring them back awesome swag from the competitions. He laughs anyway, excited all the same to be going back to school with them when the Olympics are over, and promises to get them cool stuff. 

 

Jackie overhears a bunch of tourists talking about a German restaurant near the port for dinner, and drags them all there. Tyler admits the food is great, and he gets pleasantly buzzed off the beer. He wants to enjoy this — he’ll spend the next couple of days cramming to get his second paper done, maybe even a third if he’s lucky, and doesn’t even flinch when Jackie latches onto his arm for the walk back to the hotel.

“You having fun, baby?” she asks, and Tyler nods, sated and happy.

“Yeah, I really am. Wish we’d see Segs a little more, but eh. I’m just excited to be here,” he says, and she leans up and kisses his cheek.

“I was so happy when he said you two were... _you know_. You’ve always been a good influence on him, steady and mature.”

Tyler feels ridiculously guilty; he and Segs seem to be working on the whole ‘communication’ thing, but they’ve spent a lot of time fighting as well. She seems to sense his discomfort, and squeezes his arm. 

“Every couple has problems, sweetie. And your situations are — well, normal couples have enough trouble navigating through their issues between 9-5 jobs that don’t involve road trips or training or being in the public eye. It was always going to be something you’d both need to work on, and fight for. I think you’re both doing a good job, all things considered.”

Tyler doesn’t feel any less guilty, but Jackie has a point and he knows it, so he just smiles and thanks her. They lapse into silence, listening to everyone chatting and laughing around them on the walk back to their hotel. 

 

*

 

The first game is against Slovakia a couple of days after they arrive, and they peer from their seats to see what line Segs has been put on.

“He’ll be third or fourth, no doubt,” Jesse says over the din, and Tyler nods. Sidney Crosby and Eric Staal rotate to center the first line, and Coach Sutter seems to be doing the same with Toews and Giroux for the second — and then Segs is over the boards and on the ice, skating furiously for the puck with the third line. 

“Who’s with him?” he asks, pushing his glasses further up his face. It’s been ages since he’s needed them, but they’re in the nosebleeds and it’s difficult to see much of anything.

“I think it’s Eberle and Kane on the wings,” Jesse says and that’s the last time either of them speak.

Canada wins by a goal, but Segs is on the ice for barely ten minutes. Tyler knows that’s not amazing, and he’s going to be shitty about it, pushing himself harder to prove he deserves to be on the ice just as long as the others. 

“What’s Sutter supposed to do? Push him up instead of Toews or Crosby? Yeah, right.” Jesse snorts when Tyler mentions it later on when they’re out for dinner. Paul looks just as pissed off about Segs’ lack of ice time, but they’re all upbeat about Canada’s chances as a whole. They’re not due to play for another three days, and Tyler ducks out of the tours organised in an effort to finish his last assignments.

The jetlag is finally starting to kick in — he’s got no idea how the Russians manage to fly this far every year without dying, and the game against Slovakia has brought up a lot of old memories and feelings; things he’s worked hard to bury, the jealousy and the simmering disappointment that hockey didn’t work out that never seems to want to leave him.

He felt so apathetic when he gave up, so sick and tired, but a part of him still questions; _what if_ he’d taken Ottawa? They could’ve made it work. It might’ve been better anyway — they might have tried harder because of the distance and both being famous. By the time Jesse comes back, red cheeked and laughing from a day of sightseeing with Segs’ family, Tyler hasn’t moved from his bedroom, watching old episodes of FRIENDS with the blinds drawn.

“Jesus, this is your idea of studying?” Jesse asks from the doorway, picking his way past Tyler’s suitcase and clothes thrown everywhere to fling the blinds open and crack a window. 

“It’s like, fucking minus twenty outside, you dickhead! What’s wrong with you?!” Tyler exclaims, trying to yank his covers over his head.

“Smells like homeless old man in here.” Jesse says, and sits on the edge of the bed. Tyler shuts his laptop and moves it onto the bedside table, staring balefully at Jesse from under the duvet. He hasn’t finished any of his school work, and doesn’t want to. He’ll just stay in this hotel room in Russia until things get better. 

“Yesterday was hard for you, wasn’t it?” he asks frankly. Tyler swallows hard and nods. 

“I’m not... I mean, I know hockey’s not for me anymore. I have regrets and shit, I wish I was a better hockey player, better person or whatever. I’ve made my bed and I’m lying in it, but I— I wanted to pull on that jersey, man. Even just once, for like a World Juniors or something. I’m so fucking jealous sometimes that it kills me, and I want to be an amazing guy for him and it’s like — I feel so guilty. It’s why I couldn’t go to their games, it would’ve been so horrible.”

Tyler feels even worse for vocalising any of this, and Jesse looks pained.

“Look, man. Nobody said it was going to be easy, you walking away from hockey. You spent your entire life on it, okay? You gave everything and more, you worked hard and it got you nowhere, so you said ‘fuck it’ and changed your life around. Segs knows it’s hard on you, which is why he never pushed you to see Boston play or like... man, he spent ages agonising over whether to ask you to come. I told him it’d be even more of a douche move if he didn’t.”

“I’m glad he did,” Tyler says softly, and Jesse pats his knee.

“Just let him know how you feel, man. That’s all you can do.”

 

On the back of that pep talk, Tyler texts Segs and ask him to skype when he’s free. He gets a reply straight away, and Tyler pulls his laptop back and boots it up. Within thirty seconds, Segs’ face is on his screen, looking pinched and tense.

“Hey buddy,” Tyler says, trying to tamp down his smile and the ridiculous fondness in his voice. Segs is equally as shameless in his joy to see Tyler and his room looks empty, so he figures them acting completely obviously is okay, for now.

“Why the frown?” he asks, and Segs rolls his eyes.

“I’m rooming with Ebs and all he fucking does is whine at me for being messy and how he deserves to be on second line or some shit. Hallsy’s over all the time as well, fuck. It’s really fucking irritating,” he sighs loudly, and Tyler pulls a face.

“Sorry...” he says, and Segs shrugs and smiles at him.

“Whatever. How’re you doing?” he asks, and Tyler shrugs. He feels guilty not telling Segs, and Segs glares straight away.

“You’re in bed and Mom told me you bailed on going out for the next few days for ‘school shit’. So I repeat, how are you doing?”

“It’s hard, alright? I’m fucking dealing with it as best as I can,” he snaps, unable to stop himself.

“I’m not saying you’re not, okay? I just asked—” Segs says, and the door behind him bangs open and Tyler spots a flash of colour and skin come crashing through, laughing hysterically.

“What the fuck Ebs, I’m on Skype!” Segs exclaims, and the colours stop moving and Tyler can see that it’s Hall and Eberle.

“Oh my god, _come on_. Skype your friend later, Hallsy only gets to be here for an hour,” Eberle whines, and Segs snorts.

“Yeah well, fuck off and find somewhere else to act super gay.”

Both of them swear at him but leave, shutting the door behind them. 

“Find somewhere else to act super gay?” 

Segs looks guilty and starts to stammer out something, but Tyler’s totally done with this. He’s got better things to do than see Segs’ closeted act in person. He knew when they started this, Segs wouldn’t exactly be open about who or what he is, but it’s painful seeing it in person. Hell, it’s not like he’s Marc Jacobs levels of ‘out’ or anything, but at least he doesn’t go around being a huge douche to other people about it. 

“Nice, Tyler. Really fucking nice.” Tyler spits and ends the call. 

 

*

 

Canada win against Switzerland and France — at the expense of Giroux who gets injured during the Swiss game, though it means Segs gets bumped up a line — advancing to the quarterfinals against the Czech Republic without too much trouble. Tyler doesn’t speak to Segs for most of this period, caving after the France game when Segs scores his first goal of the competition. He sends him a picture of Jesse after the girls test out their new make up on him — making him look like an extra from _Ru Paul’s Drag Race_ or something (he had a lot of spare time between applying and getting accepted in university, whatever). 

Segs texts back with “ _ahahaha sexy_ ” and Tyler says something along the lines of, “ _Getting jealous over here_ ”, and Segs sends a bunch of happy faced emojis, so things seem to be getting back to whatever normality they had before. 

“I know it’s not an excuse, but I want to punch Ebs most of the time. He is the most irritating dude I’ve ever met, including you!” Segs whines at him over their next Skype, pouting and showing him Ebs’ side of the room. Tyler’s jaw drops. 

“Jesus, does the guy not know how to pick up after himself?” he exclaims, and Segs nods.

“Now you know why I get so shitty. Everyone thinks I’m a pig anyway, after that stupid fucking Swiss article about me trashing my place. It was all crap! I basically spent all my time in the bedroom being sad and depressed about not being a Bruin. Fucking whatever,” he sulks, and Tyler can’t help but laugh at the visual — and the memories. He wasted many hours on Skype to Segs back then, listening to him whine about the lockout and Swiss life, desperate for whatever snatches of home Tyler could provide. 

 

*

 

He finishes his second paper and submits after their Skype, which puts him in a fantastic mood. When Segs talks to Tyler a couple of days later, he alternates between replaying the France game and complaining about seeing way too much of Crosby and Toews so the semi-mystical joy of their presence fades.

“Besides, Toews _constantly_ asks me shit about Kaner — I think he’s trying to find out if we banged while we were in Switzerland or something. And Crosby is just the same... except less about Kaner and more about the Russians.”

Tyler laughs his way through the Team Canada stories, and he even manages to tell Segs some of his university updates without it becoming weird. He figures it’s just them finally becoming mature enough and responsible to communicate about more than sex and apologies.

 

*

 

It’d be hard not to notice that Segs isn’t settling on either line, and there are lots of missed passes and screaming matches at his linemates whenever they head back to the bench. The game against the Czech Republic is a real wake-up call for everyone involved; Canada squeaking through in a shootout win that has Tyler screaming blue murder and dancing in the stalls as Eberle sinks the winner to clinch the game. 

Even Segs jumps on his roommate and celebrates, and Tyler’s first in line to launch on Segs when they file out the change rooms, exhausted and wet from their showers.

“So fucking proud of you!” he exclaims, and Segs clings to him like they haven’t seen each other in years, even though they’d been texting all day and snuck in a quick Skype session before Segs left for the arena. 

Segs mutters something against his cheek and pulls back, moving onto his family and Jesse, and they all go out for dinner at an Italian place near the Olympic village. The athletes aren’t supposed to go too far, or do too much, so they keep it as short and sweet as possible. 

(If Tyler fakes a really bad excuse to use the bathroom while wriggling his eyebrows at Segs, so he can push him up against the door and give him the best/worst blowjob of his life, still running hot from seeing Segs win, his skill shining through — then that’s just between them.)

 

They’re walking Segs back to the Olympic village down by the beach front, and everyone says goodbye and leaves Tyler and Segs standing in the gardens that surround the village. They sit down on a bench, pulling their jackets tight around them. It’s secluded enough that Tyler feels comfortable being close to Segs, even reaching to take his hand and lace their fingers together.

“So, the semis, eh?” he asks and Segs nods, looking every inch his age.

“Yeah. I’m so fucking scared,” he whispers and Tyler knocks their shoulders together.

“You’re gonna do amazing, alright? I’m serious, and I know my shit. I’m sort of educated,” he jokes, and Segs laughs. He leans in and kisses Tyler, and Tyler kisses back, slow and unhurried. It’s not snowing, but the snap in the air means it probably will soon. They’re in Russia and it’s winter; that kind of weather prediction is a must — even if they’re in a ridiculously nice town that seems to be all palm trees and blue skies. 

“I’m really proud of you, I just... wanted to make sure you know that,” he says, and Segs nods.

“Yeah, I know.”

They sit in silence for a little longer, before Segs sighs and says he should head in. Tyler nods and lets him up, hugging him close and breathing him in, trying to memorise his smell and feel. He doesn’t know when he’ll get to see Segs again, be with him like this, and he wants to make the most of it.

“Ty... I uh, I want to tell you something, but uhm. I don’t want you to like, feel pressed or anything, y’know?” Segs says slowly, and Tyler hums and waits, nosing against Segs’ jugular.

“I love you.”

If he had to describe it later, it feels like an out-of-body experience, and he freezes for a few beats, trying to process exactly what he’s just heard. He pulls back and looks at Segs, whose waiting, looking terribly earnest and scared and _hopeful_. 

“I don’t even know what to say,” he chokes out, and Segs laughs. 

“I just— wow. Really?” he asks, and Segs nods.

“Mmm, yeah. I definitely do. I mean, I know we’ve had our problems and shit but I think we’re doing a good job working on them and everything... as long as we keep working on them, keep being honest and dedicated to each other, I think we could... I think it could be, something—” 

Segs doesn’t get to finish his sentence, Tyler’s ridiculously goofy smile growing bigger and bigger with each word until it bursts out of him, enveloping him entirely and making him collapse into Segs’ arms, laughing and kissing him hard and passionate, holding him close and just — fuck _everyone_ , he’s never letting this stupid bastard go.

“I love you too, asshole.”

Tyler holds him until he can’t feel his face or fingers any longer and they break apart, Segs slipping back into the Olympic village and Tyler starting the walk back to the hotel. When he gets inside, Jesse takes one look at his face and scoffs.

“You guys are gonna be fucking insufferable all damn summer,” is all he says, turning the volume up on the television to drown out anything Tyler has to say. 

 

*

 

Canada gets knocked out in the semi-finals, meaning Russia go on to play the United States in the finals. Tyler hugs Cassidy and Candace to him while they watch the Canadians shake hands with the Russians, saluting the fans with their sticks before heading down the tunnel, heads hanging low. 

They take their time filing down from the boxes to the locker rooms, the rest of the families milling around and they can hear the Russians celebrating loudly, even from where they are. Tyler feels so bitterly disappointed on behalf of Segs, of the whole team. It’s gotta be utterly destroying him, and he doesn’t know what he’ll find when Segs comes out the dressing room. His phone buzzes with commiseration texts from all his friends back in Boston, his parents and Cody as well; the vibrations a solid presence in his pants pocket. 

It’s quiet and subdued, and Segs is one of the first guys out, dressed in his suit and with his hockey bag slung over his shoulder. 

“We were supposed to have a playoff for bronze with Finland, but they had to forfeit — too many injuries. The medal ceremony is gonna be held tomorrow morning, before the Russia vs. USA game,” Segs says as his parents take turns to hug him. 

“Well, at least you got a medal. It’s not the colour you wanted, but it’s better than nothing,” Jackie says, and Segs sighs loudly. Tyler and Jesse hang back while his sisters hug him. They both know it doesn’t matter, medal or no medal — nothing will ever be as good as gold. 

“This summer’s gonna fucking suck,” Jesse whispers, and Tyler nods.

“All we can do is be supportive,” he whispers back, and Jesse pulls Segs into a bro hug.

“You did your best, man, and your mom’s right. At least you took something home from this,” he says and Segs nods, letting Jesse go to look at Tyler. He looks so tired and upset. 

“Hi,” Tyler says, a small smile playing on his face. He can’t help it — it’s a shitty time, but every time he sees Segs, he just can’t help himself. He’s happy; it’s sappy as fuck and so stupid, but he can’t avoid the feelings that threaten to take him over whenever he looks at Segs. 

Ever since they told each other how they — how _important_ they are to each other — it’s like the floodgates opened. It’s like they could finally start to be together, exactly how they needed to be.

Segs just walks forward, dropping his bag and pulling Tyler to him, nosing at his jawline before pulling back and kissing him. Tyler flails for a second — there’s people fucking everywhere, fans and reporters and people with iPhones — but Segs needs him and if this is what he wants, then who is Tyler to deny him? If this is how it goes down, if this is how they get outed, Tyler can’t think of a better way than supporting him in his time of need. 

So he just puts his arms around Segs and holds him, until Segs pulls away and buries his face in Tyler’s shoulder. 

“Let’s go home,” he says wetly, and Tyler just nods. 

 

*

 

**Epilogue**

Tyler can’t stop shifting underneath his graduation robes. 

They’re heavy as fuck, itchy and uncomfortable, and the least flattering things he’s ever had to deal with — including years of stinking hockey gear. The Dean is droning through the introduction speech, before the heads of the faculties get up and line the edge of the stage, ready to start shaking hands of people they’ve never seen before.

It isn’t long before Tyler’s degree is called upon, and he stands up, sandwiched between Sarah, Andy and some kid he vaguely remembers from Sports Theory and History. God, that class had been fucking dire. 

“For the successful completion of the EdM in Physical Education —” he hears Ms. Benes call; head of the degree program. His hands are sweating and Sarah keeps readjusting his mortar board, which is ridiculous because it was fine, he literally _just_ checked, when he hears his name.

“Tyler George Brown.”

He takes a deep breath and walks up the steps, pressing his palms against his robes and taking a step onto the stage. The second he does, it sounds like the auditorium erupts with noise and he startles, head whipping around to see the _entire fucking Boston Bruins roster_ lining the far left, all dressed in their jerseys and going absolutely berserk. Segs is at the very front with Cody and his sisters, and Tyler manages to make his way to the stage to grasp at Dean Coleman’s hand.

“Looks like you’ve got a decent support group there, son.” Dean Coleman says, smiling. Tyler manages to huff out a laugh and shakes his hand, the other reaching for his degree, turning to pose for the camera. He makes it off the edge of the stage without falling over, and is handed a package from one of the staff on the side.

“Did you play for the Bruins?” one of the girls asks, looking over her shoulder at the team, still clapping and cheering, although noticeably quieter now Tyler’s off the stage. He’s going to fucking kill Segs when the ceremony is over, the little shit. He never said anything about bringing the whole damn _team_. 

“N-no,” he stammers out, and gets back to his seat without causing a fool of himself. 

 

The ceremony ends an hour later, and he heads outside into the daylight and is immediately swarmed by a sea of yellow and black. He’s cuffed around the head, patted on the back, congratulations and bouquets of flowers and bottles of wine are shoved into his arms until they’re overflowing. 

He finds Cody and manages to shove all the gifts off onto him, and then Segs appears while the Bruins disperse to sign degrees and take pictures with overwhelmed families.

“You fuckhead!” he exclaims, punching Segs in the arm, who’s grinning so hard he looks like his face is going to break. 

“What? I said I was gonna ask a couple of the guys—” he starts, and Tyler punches him again.

“A couple! Not the whole damn team!” 

Segs shrugs and moves closer, wrapping his arms around Tyler’s waist and pulling him in.

“What can I say? They all wanted to see you walk that stage, bro. Just as much as me... well, probably not as much as me. I definitely wanted it more,” he says, leaning in to kiss Tyler, soft and sweet. 

“Please tell me you get to keep the robes. I’m totally down for some schoolboy roleplay tonight,” Segs whispers as Tyler’s parents and Michelle locate them, and launch on him. 

“Oh Tyler, darling, that was such a beautiful thing you did, bringing the team!” his mother exclaims, hugging Segs to her. He blushes and acts coy.

“They were just really excited, and wanted to see Brownie’s hard work pay off. They love him in the locker room.”

That sets Tyler’s mom off even more, and Tyler glares at Segs, looking alarmed.

“They don’t love him as much as you though, right?” Michelle chirps as she lets go of Tyler, her own face a little watery and red. Segs laughs, but nods.

“Nah. They don’t have a hope in Hell of loving him more than me.”

Tyler flushes and looks down at the ground, before his dad pulls him in for a hug, and he clutches at him, listening to how proud he is. He looks over his shoulder to Segs, who’s standing there with his hands in his pockets, jersey obnoxiously loud amongst the muted colours of the robes and the families in their finery. Segs, with the A on his chest and a grin on his mouth, and the ridiculous emotion shining on his face. When his parents finally let him go, he moves around them to Segs, pulling off the cap and smirking as Segs slings an arm around his shoulder.

“You got something cool planned for us this summer, Seggy?” he asks, and Segs shrugs. 

“I might. We gotta spend a bit in Wasaga though. I’ve got something important I need to ask your dad,” he says, a sly smile playing about his face, before he turns to start chirping Ference for cheering way too loud over some hot chick from the accounting degrees. 

Tyler frowns. What could Segs possibly have to ask his dad that involves seeing them in Wasaga; important enough he can’t ask over the phone? He shrugs and starts laughing instead as Ference begins to protest. Yeah, he misses hockey but this — this is where he _belongs_.

**Author's Note:**

> [This is the degree Tyler studies](http://www.bu.edu/academics/sed/programs/physical-education-health-coaching/edm-physical-ed/). **UPDATE:** I've had several people tell me this is a Masters degree and he wouldn't be studying it, etc etc -- I'm sorry. In my defense, I'm not American and it sounded like an undergrad degree on the BU website. 
> 
> **UPDATE cont'd:** I've also had several people tell me Tyler not taking the Ottawa offer kind of undermines the whole story, and I get this. I was wavering a lot about including it, but ultimately left it in. I'd like to think it shows his emotional growth in accepting the inevitability of where his career would end up (and his personal life), and that he knew being just an enforcer wasn't what he wanted to be.
> 
> I can’t even begin to express my gratitude to the ridiculously wonderful army (and it was a metaphorical trench at times, sorry!) of betas that took to this fic. [the_eighth_sin](http://archiveofourown.org/users/the_eighth_sin), [bergusia](http://archiveofourown.org/users/bergusia), [vlieger](http://archiveofourown.org/users/vlieger</a) and [armillarysphere](http://archiveofourown.org/users/armillarysphere) \-- thank you for the grammar/tense policing, storyline tweaks and handholding through endeavouring to write a cute little fic that somehow became 44k+ about a young man who makes a decision and has to live with the consequences. I can’t explain how thankful I am to have people around and always willing to help.


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